Not Quite Right
by Simply Lily
Summary: Human Nature and Family of Blood, only with Rose as the Companion. And different scenes. And a different plot. What happend when John Smith is taken with his lovely maid? And what of the Family? Spoilers to 3x08, 3x09. JohnRose, TenRose. UPDATED!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, had this show been mine, I would have offered Billie Piper _mucho dinero_for returning to series 3, even groveled some, if it was necessary. Or better yet, I would have made the actors my own personal puppets! (Why do I always get so carried away with these disclaimers?)

**Summary:**It's exactly the Human Nature episode (3x08), only with Rose as the Companion. And with different scenes. And different dialogues. And a different plot.

**Spoilers:**Oh, guess. Alright, alright, up to _Human Nature_and _Family of Blood_.

**Rating:**So far, PG, though I honestly haven't written the rest yet.

**UPDATE, June 23, 2010: fixed that stupid formatting issue, where lines with a single "-" were deleted, causing the story to look like a jumbled mess. Sorry about that! (And shame on you, )**

-:-

**Prologue**

:-:

There was a soft knock on the door. So soft that he actually wondered if he wasn't imagining things.

A second later, a head popped into the room, and John Smith almost dropped the book he was holding. It was a woman, and she was _beautiful_, and he wondered if he wasn't imagining her as well, because she looked so much like the person he dreamt about just the night before.

"Mr. Smith?" she asked carefully, when his staring started to border on ridiculous.

Even her voice sounded familiar, though his dreams were too hazy to be sure. He quickly decided he was delusional. He lied down the book, "Yes, hello. Come in, come in. I've been expecting you."

She frowned, "You have?"

His brow furrowed, "Haven't I?"

She chuckled, as if she was expecting him to be flighty and distracted. "Afraid not, no," she said. "I'm new. I'm the new housemaid. I came to tidy up?"

He felt like slapping himself over the head. Sometimes he was so terribly foolish. Of _course_he wouldn't be expecting her. "Yes, of course, sorry," he apologized swiftly. "My head's elsewhere."

She nodded kindly, almost indulgently, and started clearing up the many papers and books that were scattered all across his chamber. He noticed she was making the effort of not misplacing his things, as if she knew he'd hate that, knew he'd prefer a little disorder to losing anything. It was all a bit too strange for ordinary _John Smith_.

He scratched his head in general confusion. "How-how long have you worked here?"

"Just ten minutes, sir," she answered, her tone seeped with patience.

"Oh, of course." He shook his head, "New, you said. Sorry. I'm new as well."

"Are you?" she murmured, distracted by an especially chaotic pile of papers.

He nodded, frantic beyond any measure of proportions. "Just started working here two weeks ago. It's very lovely, isn't it? I mean, the village. Not my work." Again, he shook his head, "I mean, my work _is_ lovely, but I imagine you wouldn't know."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, God, sorry!" he jumped to his feet apologetically, almost dropping the chair in the process. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

She laughed, and once again he was struck by a wave of familiarity. "The village is lovely, yeah," she said. "A nice change of pace from the good old London Town."

"You're from London, then?" he asked enthusiastically, glad for an ending to his accidentally offensive little outburst. "So am I! I'm from London as well. It's very lovely, isn't it?"

He didn't even notice it was the exact same thing he had _just_ said until she chuckled quietly. "London is lovely, yeah."

She continued her tidying, and for a few minutes, not even the swishing of papers disturbed the silence that emitted from the room. John Smith tried not to follow her with his eyes in a way that would be too obvious, but there was something about her that disturbed his peace, and he wasn't a very peaceful man to begin with.

His head constantly buzzed with confusion, a feeling that he forgot some of his luggage in the train station. But when _she_walked into the room, the buzzing was replaced by a steady stream of confusion. A _single_constant question in his head, and he had to voice it, else he'd burst from within.

He cleared his throat, "I'm, uh, sorry. I don't mean to disturb your work…"

"Please, do," she said pleasantly. "I don't mind. I _can_, actually, talk _and_ work at the same time."

The last sentence lacked the necessary formality for a housemaid, but John Smith found that it didn't disturb him. Of all the things that baffled him about her, this was at the bottom of the list. "I just… wanted… I'm sorry, have we met? In the past, I mean? Somewhere in London, maybe?"

She looked at him quizzically.

He hurried to explain, "It's just… I hope you don't mind my saying, you seem awfully familiar."

"I don't think so, no," she assured him, smiling softly. "I would have remembered you." He startled back, and she quickly retreated, "I'm sorry, was that too bold? My sense of propriety is a bit lacking."

He shook his head violently, "No, it wasn't, really… well, yes, maybe a _bit_ too bald, but that's not what I… are you sure we've never met before?"

She exhaled, seemingly morose, though he found no logical reason for her to be. "Quite sure."

John Smith frowned, and continued frowning until she finally finished with the room.

"Alright, then," she swallowed awkwardly. "Good day to you, Mr. Smith."

She reached the door, and just as she opened it, he found himself releasing a strange sound from his unnaturally dry throat that was meant to call her back inside.

Luckily, the sound registered and she turned around patiently.

"Sorry," he said, realizing that might have been the tenth time he apologized in the course of twenty minutes. "Sorry, uh… I just realized, I don't… what's your name?"

Her startled reaction surprised him. She seemed bewildered that he even had to ask, which sort of supported his theory that they've met in the past somewhere. A second later, she shook her head, "Rose, my name is… it's Rose. Rose Tyler."

John Smith fumbled across the room, almost knocking over a bookshelf, to shake _Rose Tyler's_ hand awkwardly. His confusion didn't quell in the slightest, but he couldn't really put his finger on the cause of it. What was painfully obvious to him was that same sense of familiarity from before, somewhat enhanced now, at having her hand in his.

"Nice to meet you, Rose. I'm John Smith," he choked, even though she knew his name already.

A few long seconds passed before Rose started shifting self-consciously at their _still_ joined hands. They were hardly positioned as a handshake anymore, and her breath became a bit labored as she said, "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Smith."

And then she practically fled from the room.

John was left standing at the entrance of his door, his outstretched palm lingering in the air, tingling strangely. Small villages were known for their slightly _odd_ atmosphere, but this was really beyond what he had imagined when he came to live there.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**Oh, for heaven's of sakes. I wonder who first came up with the disclaimer bit. I don't remember reading anything about it in _The_ _Rules_. Isn't it wonderful to have Jack back, though? I couldn't care less about him being a _fact_in the universe or whatever the hell.

**Enjoy and please Review!**I loved so much the reviews for the prologue! They made me walk around with a silly smile for three solid days… You guys are _waaay_ awesome!

:-:

**Chapter 1**

:-:

Two _months_ later, Rose knocked on the door softly, barely maneuvering the heavy tray she held in her arms.

Two _months_ it has been, Lord give her strength.

"Always the Dinner Lady," she murmured somberly. "Even when it's _breakfast_."

"Come in," came his muffled and sleepy response.

The _Doctor_would always yell an impatient '_yeah!'_ before wondering why the door was even closed in the first place. Few doors were ever closed in the TARDIS, especially to her. She could always walk into the kitchen, walk into his room, the library, the gardens, wherever she wanted. Well, it was her home.

"Your breakfast, Mr. Smith, warm from the ove…" She stepped inside, only to be welcomed with a sight of the Do… of _John Smith_ wearing a pair of striped pajamas which felt familiar enough for her stomach to churn. "Oh, you're not dressed yet," she turned around abruptly, eyes shut to hold back tears. "Sorry? I can come back later."

Cheeks reddening with horror, he quickly pulled on a robe, having never realized he was, in fact, undressed. "No! No, it's alright. I'm done, really. Good morning, Rose."

"Good morning, Mr. Smith," she answered, her grin exaggerated.

He stared at her as she put the tray down, and he continued staring until she started shifting.

"Something the matter?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

_John Smith_ slowly shook his head, so unlike _the Doctor_in every way. "I was, um… sorry, it's just… sometimes I have these _extraordinary_dreams."

"Really? What about?"

He looked away dreamily, miles away from everything. "I dream I'm this… _adventurer._This… daredevil madman. The _Doctor_, I call him."

Funny, she called him that as well, and she wondered if, at this point, he referred to himself as the Doctor in his head. Rose tilted her head, "The _Doctor_? Just the Doctor?"

"Yes, just the Doctor," he answered, nodding absently. "I seem to have no name. It's always just… _The Doctor_." He looked away from her, suddenly bashful. "Sometimes… sometimes you're there as well. Well, a lot of times, actually." Her curious glance encouraged him to continue, a bit more confidently, "As my… _companion_."

"Companion?" she frowned. "Does that mean that even in your dreams I serve you food and tidy up your room… _sir_?"

This was said with an endearing twinkle in her eye, which often slipped through the façade and, luckily, always made him laugh. "Not at all, Rose. You're nothing of the sort."

"Well, the only alternative I can think of is _highly_ inappropriate."

In a painfully _John Smith-_ish move, he sputtered his orange juice all over the table. "No! It's not like… _that_. It's not… _inappropriate_at all."

Rose laughed so that he'd know she was only winding him up. Which, okay, so it was pretty amusing when he blushed, but also served as a violent reminder that he was so very much _not_ the Doctor. She needed to be reminded of that more often than not.

He answered to her laughter with a scowl, which quickly melted as the events of his _extraordinary_dream flooded his mind. "It's all very remarkable, really. We travel to different planets, some with names that would take a whole page to write. We get in and out of trouble, and sometimes, when you catch a cold, _I'm_the one serving _you_ tea!" he slapped his forehead with wonder at the very thought.

Rose's eyes widened comically, "Serve _me_? Oh, Mr. Smith, the _things_you say!"

His playful expression softened. "Sometimes…" he almost whispered, stubbornly averting his gaze from hers. "Sometimes… when you're sad, there're also… _biscuits_."

She swallowed hard and tried not to miss him too much. Cuddling with a batch of biscuits sounded heavenly at the moment. "If our lives are so exciting, then why would I be sad?" she asked quietly, curious to hear his answer.

"Exciting, yes, but sometimes quite disastrous," he said, as grimly as he could without actually experiencing any of the disasters in real life.

"A small amount to pay in order to get to the _fantastic_, don't you think?"

He stared at her like she was a mesmerizing treasure he saw for the first time. "Certainly," he breathed, before quickly covering his wonderment with a cough. "In fact, I say that world a lot, _fantastic._That, and _impossible_. Though I can't imagine what would seem impossible to a man from another world."

Rose laughed, and he couldn't help joining her. Later their laughter would haunt him in his sleep, he knew.

"And I do remember another thing. It all took place…" he paused, "in the _future_."

"The future?" she asked, feigning surprise. "How far in it?"

His brow furrowed in concentration, "The year 2007, if I'm correct. I'll have you know, things seem quite different there. We're dressed differently, for once."

Rose picked up the paper pensively, "Hmm… 1913. Well, that would put us about… 94 years back? Quite a journey we've done."

He grinned, "_Oh_, we've been further, I assure you. I seem to recall us visiting the year _five billion_, more than once, in fact. And there was this watch… this _regular_ looking fob watch, but I don't remember what about it."

"A fob watch, really?" she asked innocently. "Do you even have one of those, sir?"

"No, I guess not. I used to have one, I think, but I don't know where it is." Rose bit her lip, glad that her back was turned to him. "Probably buried somewhere, possibly still in my luggage."

Bless him for not being suspicious of her. Another man would have immediately pointed at the housemaid, but not kind and trusting John Smith. Oh no, he'd never rush to believe the worst in _anyone_. Except for maybe the enemies of the queen and such.

Of course, she really _did_ steal his fob watch, so in this particular case, he would have been right to suspect her.

"Well, eat your breakfast, then, Mr. Smith," Rose urged, setting the forgotten tray in front of him. "Don't want to be late for your class, do ya?"

He flashed a playful grin in her direction, a bit of the _Doctor_seeping through. "Giving _me_ orders now, are you, Ms. Tyler?"

She stifled the urge to slap the back of his head. A _slightly_free spirited housemaid was one thing, but physical violence might actually get her _fired,_and a wink would probably be misunderstood. There was really just one thing a maid could do in this depressing period of time. She lowered her head, "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to get out of line."

His cheerful attitude didn't falter. "I don't believe that for a second!" he declared. "I have difficulties believing you've ever _seen_the line up close. It's just a dot in the scenery for you."

It was so easy to fall into a bantering match. It was so easy to forget. But this was 1913, and he was human.

Just before leaving, she turned around and politely curtsied. "I'll come back later for the tray, sir. If you need me, I'll be just around in the _future_, just give us a ring."

1913, and he was human. As human as they came.

:-:

A random child greeted him with a, "Good morning, sir."

But he could only nod, because he knew that if he were to open his mouth, all that would come out would be a silly giggle.

_I'll be just around in the future, just give us a ring_. He loved that bit, which was fortunate, as it got hopelessly stuck in his head for hours and hours, ringing and whispering its presence whenever he had a moment's peace from the constant thoughts that swarmed inside his troubled mind.

"… was charged for protecting Napoleon," he said, but all he could think of was the pair of twinkling brown eyes he was met with every single morning for the past month. "… But by evening, the advance of the allay troops had forced them to _ret_reat." And she was certainly a _peculiar_ lady, he mused. But peculiar suited her well.

Though she was but a housemaid, he could never shake the unexplained feeling that she was the closest he would get to those start he often dreamt of.

:-:

She was scrubbing the floor when he passed by, and he was temped to taunt her by murmuring his usual 'missed a spot right _there_, Ms. Tyler' and nudging with his foot at an invisible stain on the floor. He liked how even after two months, her glower held the same amount of amused vehemence. Unfortunately, though, there was someone else with her, which forced him to keep quiet.

"Morning, sir," she greeted with a broad smile, as if they haven't seen each other just an hour ago.

Of course she would feel more comfortable with such displays of familiarity. She was _Rose_, after all; he should have known. It took him all of three days to realize that she really just _didn't care_ if it didn't fit her status.

And what more, she liked making him blush in public.

His grin of response was tighter, way too formal for his distance to be believable. "Yes, morning," he murmured indifferently as he stomped up the stairs.

Jenny giggled, "Poor fellow, someday you'll make him break a leg with that stunt!"

Rose waved a dismissive hand, "Nonsense. He presumes to be ready for war; a bit of teasing shouldn't damage him." Sometimes the words that came out of her mouth surprised even her. _Presumes_? Since when did she say _presumes_? This time period was really messing with her head.

Sometimes she found herself missing the Powell Estates. At least there, the floors were hers to clean. Not to mention, she was allowed to actually use a _mop_.

"Then I'm more worried about _you_," Jenny said. "I've seen housemaid get fired for a lot less. Sometimes even for just _looking_ at a schoolteacher in a way he doesn't approve of. You should be careful there."

Rose conquered the urge to roll her eyes, but not the disbelieving "firing _me_, that'll be the day" that escaped her lips. She could happily live in the TARDIS for the remaining month if he fired her, and then when it was finally time, he would have to endure weeks of pleading and chocolate before she forgave the _nerve_ of him. Pfft, firing _her._

She was doing _him_ a favor, after all, watching over him as she did.

"You know," she said, without even knowing why. "This one time, back in… uh, London, I was working in this shop. I got my boss fired for trying to put his hands on me. The dirty old man."

Jenny frowned, utterly bewildered, "How d'you mean, _fired_? What did you do?"

"Told _his_boss the truth. She was very nice about it," Rose blurted, never stopping to think of the implications of her words.

Luckily, Jenny burst our laughing. "_She_ was? Right. And I was believing you and everything! You're such a liar!" Rose giggled back, relieved to the core. Jenny splashed some water over her, "'m never gonna believe a word you say, 'm not!"

"Now, then, you two," Beins interrupted them condescendingly. "You're not paid to have fun."

_We're not paid to have much of anything_, Rose thought as she nodded politely. Jenny apologized, which Rose would have done as well, if only there wasn't a limit to how much a person could grovel to little boys with preppy ties who were old enough to be her great-great grandparents and would probably flee at the sight of a telly.

"Just think, though, a few years time, boys like that would be running the country," Jenny muttered.

Rose tilted her head, "Or maybe _we_ would, and I wouldn't want to be _them_ when we did!"

Jenny shook her head at her friend's delusions. Honestly, she was cleansed of ideas like those when she was but a little girl. Poor Rose must have had a strange creature for a mother.

:-:

"… He received a letter this morning, so he's a bit more chipper, and I appear to be holding you books."

_John Smith_ realized, with quite an impressive amount of dismay, that she indeed appeared to be doing so. "Yeah, so you are!" he breather, trying to take them back while mumbling an embarrassed apology.

"Why don't I take half?" Nurse Redfern offered kindly when it was obvious he'd just be dropping more and more books until he was holding none.

He smiled, chipper for no real reason except for the general contentment he felt since he got this job. "Brilliant idea, _brilliant_. Perfect… division of labor."

"We make quite a team."

"Don't we just?"

They laughed for a moment, which was also something he didn't remember doing much during his childhood, before she offered –again, kindly- to help him carry the books to wherever they were being carried, because otherwise she feared he might carry them straight into the forest.

As suspected, it took him a moment longer than it would normal people to figure out where he was headed, especially since it happened to be _his room_.

"… Matron, give the boys a good head of steam, they'll wear themselves out."

"Truth be told, when it's just you and me, I'd much rather you called me Nurse Redfern," she requested. "_Matron_ sounds rather, well, _matronly_."

"Oh…" he murmured, rather unsure of what it had to do with what they had been discussing a minute ago. "Ah, Nurse Redfern it is, then," he agreed quickly, deciding to drop the previous topic, as it seemed to have been boring her.

However, when she requested that he'd call her _Joan_, he found himself panicking ever so slightly. It was starting to sound like she was leading to something.

"And it's _John_?" she confirmed, though it was fairly obvious, as it was written just about everywhere around him.

Definitely after something, he concluded.

"Have you seen this, John?" she asked, pointing at an announcement on the wall for the Annual Dance. "The Annual Dance at the village tomorrow," she explained, as if he couldn't read, and John wasn't sure when they had even reached the message board in the first place. "It's nothing formal, but rather fun. Do you think you'll go?"

_Him_? To a _dance_? My, how modern. He never considered himself as the type who… _danced_. There were no dances in his youth that he could remember, and what interest was it of Nurse Redfern's - or, um, _Joan_'s? Was she one of the dance's organizers? "I… hadn't thought about it," he answered honestly.

Did _Rose_ dance?

He didn't know where the thought resonated from, but once it did, it consumed most of his brain.

She seemed young. Well, obviously she _was_ young. But she was a housemaid. Did housemaids _dance_? Did they have dances of their own? They obviously couldn't sit inside a pub, but that didn't mean they couldn't organize their own private dances.

And if they did, who'd be the gentlemen there? Stable boys? Waiters? Did they court like _he_ did – or rather, was supposed to do? Was some stable boy courting _Rose_? She was a fair maiden, after all, it was only logical, but the thought didn't rest well with Mr. John Smith. It made his stomach twist in distaste.

He couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but he assumed it was that since he was quite fond of her, he wished her better than a stable boy, or a waiter. Better like, maybe… a schoolteacher?

Well, of course not! Sometimes his head was just full of mad ideas!

While all this was going in his head, he was stunned to realize that the world hadn't stopped and waited for him to finish contemplating. Nurse Re… _Joan_ was not done yet. "It's been ages since I've been to a dance. Only no one's asked me." She laughed nervously and averted her eyes from him.

John found it difficult to decide whether she regretted saying the last comment or was just humoring with him. Whichever it might have been, at this point, he had gone from panicked to _terrified_. Never mind housemaid dances, he was_definitely_ not ready to either asking Nurse Re… _Joan_to the dance, or respond to her self-flagellating humor.

"Well!" he called, way too loudly, mostly to stop his brain from racing. "I should imagine that you'd be…" _what_? She'd be _what_? There was no ending to that sentence. "I mean, I-I-I never thought you'd be one for…" didn't he, now? How could he possibly know? "If you do! You may not. I-I probably won't. But even _if_I did, I couldn't… I mean, I wouldn't want to…" No, that was a bit rude.

"The stairs," she commented.

_Yes_! Let he be swallowed by… the stairs? Never mind, please, God, let him be swallowed by the _stairs_, if they wanted to. No, wait, stairs didn't _normally_ swallow people, so what was she referring to? "What? What about them?"

"They're right behind you," she pointed, taking a few steps forward, which, unfortunately, merely caused him to step back, trying to put as much distance between them, and fall down and down.

Not exactly _swallowing_, he thought as he painfully rolled down the stairs. But at least it was an ending to the completely _torturous_discussion, and he couldn't help being pleased with that. Well, pleased, along with slightly unconscious.

How did stable boys _courted_, anyway? Did they even have money for flowers and such? Well, that was rude as well – of _course_ they had money. They were working men, just like him, he chided himself as the world finally turned black.

They had every right to _court_ Rose, the bastards.

:-:

I do apologize if this seems too… I dunno, _similar_ to the actual episode, but I thought those aspects needed to be addressed in some way. I am _not_planning to have everything be the same, obviously. And also, it was so very fun to get inside John Smith's head ;-) –Although I just committed the crime of apologizing for my own work. Darn…

Despite this heinous crime, I hope you'll still REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**This show is not mine. I would have offered Billie Piper millions to stay, and if she refused, I would have grabbed her foot and stopped her from leaving while wailing like a little girl. Or I would have created a willing clone of hers and then she would have stayed forever! It's mean to just leave like that…

**A\N:**Oh my God, thank you guys so much for the reviews. I've just sat down yesterday to reply them all at once, otherwise I miss some. They've made this horrible week _so_much better. Seriously, like, _ridiculously_better. So, please, don't stop there, I love hearing what you guys think!

Enjoy!

**:-:**

**Chapter 2**

**:-:**

John Smith grunted in mild annoyance.

"Stop it," Nurse Redfern commanded patiently. "I get _boys_causing less fuss that this."

"But it _hurts_…" he wrinkled his nose with distaste, wishing for some miraculous higher power to send Rose over to him, possibly with some tea.

A moment later, he was obliged by said miraculous higher power, who sent Rose through his study's door, although devoid of any tea. "Oh my God, are you alright?" she asked frantically.

Joan clicked her tongue, "Excuse me, Rose. It's hardly good form to enter a master's study without knocking."

Rose rolled her eyes surreptitiously, but obliged and exited the room. "It's hardly good form to slap you in the face, either, isn't it?" she murmured, clenching and unclenching her fists. _Deep breathes_, she told herself.

A moment later, there were three soft and polite knocks on the door.

John tried not to giggle as he called, "Come in!"

Rose entered the room, her back straightened impossibly. She curtsied pleasantly at both him and the Nurse, before inquiring in her most civil of tones, "Mr. Smith, I received news that you fell down the stairs. Are you feeling alr…" She shook her head, "I mean, is your general state of being _satisfactory_ enough for you, sir?"

He found that it was harder and harder to hold back the violent fits of laughter generating at the bottom of his stomach. Nurse Redfern's satisfied expression at Rose's feigned politeness didn't help any either. "Way, yes. Quite. Thank you for your concern," he stated curtly.

Joan's tight grin disappeared off her lips. She looked between the two, involuntarily suspicious.

Rose paid her no mind, "Might I interest you in some tea after I tidy up your things, to calm the aching in your head?"

His façade was cleared for genuine delight, "_Yes_, please! Thank you, I'd love some tea."

Rose curtsied again, though just once this time, and mostly at Nurse Redfern's direction, before turning to the desk where all the books he dropped lied, torn and disarrayed. _JohnSmith_ almost went to stop her; there was really no need; no person should be_forced_to do that. But, well, it was her job, and what would Nurse Re… _Joan_say?

"I must say, Mr. Smith," Joan started, eager to make conversation. "In all my years as a nurse, I've not once known of someone to walk _straight_off the stairs. It was quite a sight to see," she grinned.

John blushed and averted his eyes from both women, "One I would _not_ be keen on recollecting."

Rose sniggered involuntarily. _Just you wait_, she thought.

He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly warning her from future teasing. But he was only her boss for less than month.

Joan stepped back to admire her work before chirping, "There, all better!" She shifted slightly when it was clear that a thanks and a friendly nod was all she'd get from the handsome John Smith. "Do you… would you be needing anything else from me?"

Something in her tone stirred Rose's attention. She whirled around just in time to catch that fleeting glimpse of hope in Joan's eyes, and almost shook her head in sympathy. The one thing John Smith inherited from the Doctor _had_ to be complete oblivion to how attractive he was, physically and otherwise.

Honestly, Rose felt almost sorry for the poor woman.

However, much to Rose's surprise, John grinned dismissively, seemingly aware of the intention in the Nurse's voice, "No, thank you, Matron. You've done a terrific job. I don't feel any pain _at all_."

Well, gee. He might as well have said_, We're done here, Matron. Shift off._

Of course, poor deluded Joan somehow managed to take his dismissal as a compliment to her medical skills. "At your service, Mr. Smith," she nodded smilingly before leaving.

The minute the door closed behind her, propriety was wiped cleared off John's face. He followed Rose with his eyes, waiting for the inevitable mockery at his expense to begin. He knew she couldn't help herself, and surely, three seconds later and a silent little giggle escaped her lips.

He sighed, "Go on, go on. Don't restrain your _joyful_ humor on account of me."

Rose tried to stifle her amusement, but it wasn't long before the giggle turned into full fledged laughter. "Honestly," she choked, barely able to speak. "You fell down the _stairs_."

He shifted defensively, "I didn't _fall_! It was more like… a _tumble_."

Of course, that only served to strengthen her laughter. "But what were you trying to _do_, sir? Did you try leaping into space?" She clicked her tongue mischievously, "Or maybe… _sliding_ off to the future?"

He folded his hands, lips forming into a pout. The famous _Doctor_ pout, it was. "I'm beginning to regret ever telling you."

She immediately halted, mirth turning into a soft smile, "No. No, I'm sorry," she apologized quietly. "I wasn't _mocking_ you. To be honest, I've always loved fairy tales…" she looked away, thinking of the beloved TARDIS, her beloved Doctor, trying to will herself back to that life. "I never thought I'd be part of one."

John pursed his lips, quite taken by the sudden change of atmosphere and the affect it had on his lovely housemaid. She was framed by light and smiling like flowers surely did when no one was looking and suddenly he takes her hand in his and they smile and they're running for their lives.

In his dreams, she was not just _part_ of the fairy tale; she was the _champion_. The Doctor's brave and compassionate _champion_.

She smiled coyly at him, "Would you… tell me about one of the adventures… that you dream up for us?"

He shook away from his _insane_ reverie where he was not a teacher and she was not a housemaid and it was not 1913. His dreams were taking a toll on his judgment, he decided gravely. No good could come of it. And yet.

Wait, he thinks Rose was talking just there.

"What?" he asked.

"Please, sir?"

There was a silence, in which it appeared that two sides of John's consciousness battled with each other. Rose loved how every emotion was so evident of his face. It was another thing he inherited from his past life as a maniacal alien.

Finally, the battle ended. "Actually, I've…" he blushed slightly, clearing his throat. "I've been writing some of these adventures in the form of fiction… if you… if you like, I can…"

Rose nodded eagerly just as John began to give up on his words forming messages. He handed her the brown leather journal, which she took as if it were a precious heirloom that was believed to be lost forever. She stroked it briefly before loosening the protective strip, and John found that apart from being moved to no end, he also felt a little… _lustful_.

"_Journal of Impossible Things_," she murmured affectionately, going through pages of pages of his life and sometimes hers. "This… it's incredible."

"These," he pointed at the drawing of a Dalek, enthusiastic and just a little proud of his imagination for creating a life so _brilliant_out of one so dull. "I can't remember what they're called…"

"_It stood only for itself, for the side it was on_," she read quietly.

He nodded. "They are my greatest enemies. _Our_ greatest enemies. _Four_ times they've tried to take you away from m… from the Doctor. Well, four times _so far_. At first, I dealt with them alone, with a different face, can you imagine." Rose chuckled, but otherwise stayed completely still. "And then you… you're linked, you two. They always come after you."

There was a page with a portrait of her. It said, _Perfect Rose,_and then just next to it,_She's always by my side, in my dreams, I see her_.

John quickly flipped that page away, stubbornly avoiding her gaze. He sometimes wrote these things quite instinctively, was how he always rationalized that very page, but he'd rather not repeat that fable excuse to her, if he could avoid it.

"Oh, that's the box!" he said suddenly, relieved with the change of subject. "The Blue Box, it's always there. Like a… uh, a… a magic _carpet_. This funny little box that transfers me to far away places."

Rose tried not to start laughing again as she imagined what the TARDIS's reaction would be to being compared to a _carpet_. "But it's so small," she baited him. "Where would we fit?"

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, grinning like a little boy. "It's alright, see, it's _bigger on the inside_!"

She chuckled, "It's alien."

"Well, yes."

"Are you alien?"

To her surprise, he chuckled as well. Such a grown up chuckle, not foolish or cheerful at all. "Actually," he said, running his tongue over his teeth with embarrassment. "I dream, quite often, that… that I have two hearts. So I suppose I am alien."

"And do you?"

Since the book was cast aside, their close proximity had no reason, and was therefore highly inappropriate. John Smith swallowed hard, and there was no mistaking the frantic drumming in his chest. "I can't feel the other one," he murmured, and their eyes snapped to meet each other.

The book was returned to its place between their bodies with haste. It opened to a random page with drawings of five other men.

"Sometimes I think," he choked, breathing labored ever so slightly. "How magical life would be if stories like this were true."

Rose smiled and wondered if the Doctor would have taken himself as a companion. He had a tendency to take people who wanted to come. "If only," she said wistfully, shutting the journal.

"You can… keep it," he said quickly, trying to stifle it all. "I mean, if you want to. You may not… or maybe you're busy. I mean, maybe you'd rather read…"

Rose gripped the journal to her chest, "Can I? Really?"

His smile was bigger than his face, "Of course! I mean, please, do, if you like."

It would have been the perfect moment for a _Doctor-Rose_hug or a _Doctor_-_Rose_affectionate peck on the cheek, and God, this month couldn't be longer if it tried its best.

The bell for lunch was heard, and they abruptly pulled apart, each getting back to his business.

"Uh, good day, Mr. Smith," she mumbled, practically slamming through the door.

"Yes, quite," he breathed, and was involuntary reminded of the first day they met.

:-:

_Rose. This watch. This watch is-_

What? What is it?

For the life of him, he couldn't remember.

:-:

_This watch is me_.

"Hello, beautiful," Rose sing-sogned as she closed the TARDIS's door behind her. "23 more days to go. You getting bored? God knows I am."

The TARDIS stayed disturbingly silent. Rose wondered if it could hear even hear her.

"Have you been keeping the Watch safe?" she asked affectionately, opening the compartment where the watch lied. "Good, thanks. Got something else for you to guard. Doctor Smith scraped up a journal. It says everything about _everything_. All the secrets we've been trying to keep. Let's remember that for the next time he calls me or someone else _thick_."

She checked her pockets, but alas, they were empty.

"What? Oh, I can't believe I forgot it in my nightstand. 'm such an idiot! Sorry, bring it by next time. 'll have to keep an eye on it, 'course, though I don't think anyone's followed us by this point…"

At last, the TARDIS gave a weak, silent whir, which Rose didn't know how to decipher. It almost sounded like a whimper.

She decided it was a complaint, which she could definitely understand.

"I know, Love, I'm so sorry," she sighed. "Just remember, 23 more and that's it, I bloody hell promise."

Just before leaving, she grinned slightly at the Heart of the TARDIS and said, "By the way, the Doctor compared you to a _carpet_. I'd start dreaming up ways of revenge. It'll help pass the time."

At last, a small light emerged from the console, which Rose took as a slight cheering up.

"That's better," she whispered.

:-:

Hope you liked this! Am still having so much with whacky John Smith, and although I'm sorry to push lovely Nurse Redfern to the sidelines… well, I mean, this is _Rose_ we're talking about here. I'm still hoping for a guest appearance or _something_. I mean, this cold turkey that's imposed upon us is just not _fair_.

Anyway, pretty please take a moment to **REVIEW**.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** These. Are. ::drums:: _Not Mine_. I have no intention of making money of them. In fact, I have every intention of _giving_them money by buying Merchandise . So, they can either get my money in court, or in the stores. I go with B, if only because I crave an action figure or a TARDIS key chain or something of the sort!

Thanks for the reviews! They are _beyond_ awesome.

:-:

**Chapter 3**

:-:

_John Smith_ stumbled back in evident surprise. "Rose!"

Rose turned around abruptly, her posture indicating an intention to run, as if they were about to start in a mad dash towards their Blue Magic Carpet. "What?" she asked, alarmed.

Truthfully, aside from his dreams, he'd only rarely seen her outside school grounds, dressed in casual clothes that weren't her work uniform. Her hair was tied down loosely to protect from the wind, which colored her cheeks in a lovely shade of pink. Really, he had to admit he was quite taken. Well, not that he _had_ to admit anything. Not to anyone. Not ever.

"What… uh, what are…" _you doing?_Well, that was a bit rude, maybe. "Uh, good evening?"

For some reason, she seemed slightly disappointed. "Evening, Mr. Smith," she sighed, absently directing her gaze back to the starts.

John looked between her and the sky, bewildered beyond his imagination. "It's, uh, rather cold…" he choked. "Rather cold to be walking around… the _dark_."

She turned to him for the first time, and the intensity in her eyes was almost frightening. "Did you see that? In the sky? Looked like… _meteors_! There were meteors!"

With difficulty, John looked away from her and up to the sky, just in time to catch another bolt of light crossing through it.

"There! Did you see that?" she called.

He found himself almost bouncing up and down with joy, "Yes, I did! It's lovely!"

Rose nodded enthusiastically, her smile bigger than her face.

"I, uh, I've never seen one before." He caught a glimpse of her delighted face and his grin broadened, "It's really quite… _beautiful_."

Again, she nodded, still staring at the stars, completely oblivious to the unexpected compliment. "Doesn't it look like it was heading for the woods?"

John shook his head, embarrassed with himself for thinking such indecent thoughts. For a second he actually considered the possibility of what she said, before realizing it was completely ridiculous. _Absurdly_ridiculous. He assimilated his best professor's tone, "No, no, no. They always look close, when actually they're _miles_ off. Nothing left but a _cinder_."

Well, maybe not his _very_ best. That flirtatious streak in the end would have caused him quite a few problems with the headmaster.

Rose smiled like someone who knew better. "Thank you, that was very _educational_."

He blushed, slightly apologetic. "Well, sorry… you did ask if…"

"What's over there anyway?" she ignored him, pointing at the woods.

"Uh… uh, that's Cooper's Field," he mumbled, his confusion never-ending. "But really, they're not… I mean, meteors, they usually fall into the ocean. I…" He scratched his head, "Rose, what are you…"

She started running towards the very field.

"Rose!" he called. "Rose! What are you doing? It's _dark!_ Rose!" She didn't even acknowledge him, and pretty soon he'd lose her altogether. He had no choice. "_Rose!_Wait!" he started chasing after her. "Stop it! Just… _stop it_!"

They reached the middle of the field, and only then did she finally stop.

It took him but a second to catch up, and for the next few minutes, the only audible sounds around them belonged to their heavy breathing. They were utterly and completely _alone_.

"See?" he breathed. "Told you there was nothing there."

Rose shrugged, "Still… it was fun, wasn't it?"

John stared at her.

"What?"

"You're mad," he stated.

A smirk threatened to spread across her face, "Well, _excuse_ me, Mr. Smith."

He clicked his tongue with annoyance. "You scared me to _death_! What were you thinking, running off into the night? You could've tripped on a rock, or a branch! You could've hit your head! You could've _died_!"

Rose tilted her head teasingly.

"It's not… _funny_!" he insisted, crossing his arms. "I was _worried_."

The smirk was instantly wiped clean from her face, "I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. It's only the woods. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Well… you did!" he exclaimed, stumping his feet angrily, unable to get past those few frightful minutes when he felt the life drained out of him with concern. He really wished she'd take it as seriously as he did.

Rose nodded apologetically. "Sorry," she repeated with the same carelessness as before, linking her arm around his elbow with the brightest of smiles.

Her touch was casual and comfortable and almost made him shiver even though there were several layers of fabric standing between them.

"Come on, Mr. Smith, let's get back to the school."

John looked at her, looked at her arm around his, and back at her. He sighed deeply, a glimmer of amusement escaping through his glare. "I suppose it's my duty to escort you back. Otherwise you'll surely find a number of ways to get yourself _killed_. Very jeopardy-friendly, you are," the last part was said in an affectionate murmur, so it was very alarming for him when Rose halted suddenly.

"What did you say?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, unconsciously placing one of his gloved hands over hers in way of apology. "I didn't mean to offend you, sorry!"

Rose shook her head, her soft grin so very far away. "I'm not offended, it's just… I had a friend who used to call me that all the time."

He choked the _so, you've always been a troublemaker_ that stood on the edge of his tongue, and instead asked, "And what… I mean, I hope you don't think I'm intruding, but what happened to her? Or him?"

_Stolen from me._ "Life, you know how it is. Things… _happen_," she chuckled humorlessly. "Someday soon, though…" she shook her head. "Never mind. Soon enough, I hope."

He nodded, aware that he wasn't going to get anymore on the subject.

They reached the local pub, where he saw her friend Jenny and Nurse Redfern. In different tables, of course. There weren't any teachers around, and he knew it was his duty to at least _offer_ to escort them home. It was in his breeding; his mother taught him to always escort a lady, though he couldn't remember exactly when and where.

So imagine his surprise when he found himself stirring Rose away to a more private route where they were unlikely to find anyone they knew. He could tell himself it was because it was a bad idea for someone to see them being so familiar with each other, especially since he never did move his hand away from hers, but, well, no one _forced_them to be so. There was no need for all the physical contact, really.

Mostly it was just because he didn't want them to be interrupted. Coincidently, the more-private-route he'd chosen for them was quite a bit longer as well. Such a crazy coincidence, indeed.

"You know, I realized I don't really know anything about you, except that you're from London. What of your family?" he asked quietly, sure, for some reason, that her answer would be tragic.

As he feared, Rose tensed against him, her eyes clouded and dark. "Gone, now. They…" her voice died out. She took a deep breath. "My parents, and Mickey, they… they're all gone now."

His heart broke for her, "But… you're all on your own?"

It was not the first time she was asked that. In fact, just a few weeks ago she was trapped in a shuttle to the sun and asked the same. Usually she could say she had _the Doctor_, but now she didn't even have him. He was just a shell. A nice shell, which she was quite fond of, but he would not pull her closer to him and show her the stars. He was _John Smith_.

"Yes, I am," she said, her voice barely over a whisper. "But I think I'm doing alright, don't you?"

"Certainly!" he breathed, completely honest. "But, Rose, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head, "Don't be, it's not your fault. There was… a war. Such a… such a war."

John strained his brain for a possible war, but all he remembered was the Mexican Revolution, which seemed unlikely. Maybe she was talking of a local war, which understandably got magnified to a monstrous size in a little girl's mind. Or maybe it was the Battle of Spion Kop that also claimed Nurse Redfern's husband, though she would have been but a child, and her grief seemed so new and raw.

His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily.

"Sorry," she sniffled suddenly, wiping her eyes urgently. "I didn't mean to… not on such a beautiful night."

"It's cold," he said.

"Who cares about the cold?" she asked, suddenly enthusiastic. "There were _meteors._ They were beautiful."

He was reminded of her expression when she looked up at that yellow bolt of light. Such wonder and longing, and now… If there was _anything_ he could do to make it better, to make the smile reach her eyes, he wouldn't even hesitate.

"Yes, they were," he said. "_Beautiful_."

She beamed warmly, and it did sort of reach her eyes, but not enough for his liking.

They continued walking silently for a few minutes as John gathered courage.

She told him about her family, about her past. They ran; they laughed. She let him practically hold her hand; she wrapped her arm around his. There were meteors and they were alone and _God_, he couldn't stop himself.

"Rose," he exhaled urgently, before he lost his nerve. "I heard there was this… village dance. Tomorrow night. Would you like that, a dance?"

She shrugged, "Sure, I like dancing."

He almost slapped the back of his own head. He knew his cheeks were as red as they could possibly be. Since Nurse Redgern told him about it… after _days_ of secret rehearsals in his head, and _this_ is what he managed? "No, I meant… would you like… with me? Would you like to go to the dance… with _me_? As my, uh, guest."

_What?_

Rose's eyes widened in utter shock. _That wasn't on the list_. Definitely wasn't. Was she allowed? It almost felt like abusing the Doctor's free will, taking advantage of him when he was vulnerable and _human_. Did she even want to? With this _shell_? This handsome gentleman who was smart and kind but not Her Doctor?

She grinned.

"I'd love to."

"_Brilliant_!"

:-:

My name's Baines. Jeremy Baines.

Please, can I go?

_I'm so sorry, Baines. Jeremy Baines. But I don't think you could ever leave._

But who are you?

Why can't I see you?

_Why would you want to see us?_

:-:

"Do you think there was _really_ nothing there?" Rose asked the space in front of her. "I mean, I know the Doctor said there wasn't, but I don't think his opinion counts nowadays, do you?"

The lights flickered slightly around her.

Rose knew the Doctor nearly disabled her entirely so that she wouldn't be spotted. Rose thought it horrible, that the TARDIS should be trapped like this. She felt like staying with her until she was the TARDIS again.

"Is a meteor ever just a meteor anymore? What if it's the family?" She frantically opened the drawer where the watch lied peacefully. "Well, at least they'll never be able to get in, right? It's safe here, the Doctor's essence or whatnot?"

_It's all down to you, Rose. Again._

A soft grin. _I know I couldn't be in better hands._

"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't like it one bit."

The screen came alive to an image of the Doctor. At least the TARDIS was somewhat awake.

_Number Twelve: The Family members need to assimilate bodies for themselves. Please, be careful. Remember, we'll both be completely human. If we don't say anything, or leave behind anything, they'll never be able to spot us._

_Which brings me to Number Thirteen: Try not to leave anything dangerous behind._

Rose nodded absently, "Yeah, I get it. Keep my nose away. Alright, alright, if the _mighty_ TARDIS says so." She checked her watch, "Oh, no. I have to get to work. Blimey." She started towards the exit, before turning around all of her a sudden, slightly blushing. "Did I tell you he asked me to the dance with him? He's a funny bloke, that _John Smith_. Kinda cute. I, uh… I like him," she giggled. "I'll have to go through the wardrobe, though. Pick something up. Hang on."

She came back a few minutes later, holding a dress in her hands. "Right then, better be off."

The recording started again.

_Number Twelve: The Family members need-_

"Alright, already," Rose laughed. "I got it. I promise I'll be a good, quiet girl."

She left before it got to Number Thirteen, which was what the TARDIS was aiming for.

_Number Thirteen: Try not to leave anything dangerous behind._

Rose had forgotten the journal in her nightstand, again. In her room. Her room, which she shared with Jenny.

:-:

_You're just what we need, girl._

She works at the school.

The faintest of traces but they all lead back there.

_Stop mocking me, sir!_

Mother of Mine just needs a shape.

**The End.**

:-:

Heh, I'm just kidding. Kidding, sorry.

And I'm sorry for glossing over the Family of Blood parts, if anyone's a fan. I just figured there was the episode for that, and we're only here for the Doctor\Rose anyway, right? I think so, anyway. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you'll tell me what you think about it! (There's a purple "SUBMIT A **REVIEW**" button just for that. Please? pout)

Have a _fantastic_day! I'm off to watch the Finale (and then probably think of how it would have been with Rose…). Cheers, all!


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**This is not mine. I would _never_ think to impose a hiatus on my viewers. My actors would unknowingly sign life-long contracts, and be forever legally bound to _me_! Ha! Seriously, I'm making a mockery of these disclaimers. How awesome is the Master? No, really. I would have kept the Master as well. It would have been the Ninth Doctor, the Tenth Doctor, Rose, Jack, the Master, and occasionally Donna and Sally Sparrow in my fantasy TARDIS. It would have been slightly crowded, yes.

Where was I? Of course, the **REVIEWS**! Good holly heaven, you guys are awesome! I'm kissing the sky right about now. All the threats and stuff to update really are the best motivator anyone could ask, but I do get a little scared that I might disappoint. So please, after you read this, **EXPRESS** **YOUR** **OPINION**! (I don't know why I feel the need to bold that. Maybe it's my short attention span…)

Enjoy!

**:-:**

**Chapter 4**

**:-:**

"Anything the matter, Baines?"

Baines looked nothing like a human being as he fixed his eyes on him and _sniffed_. "I thought… No, sir. Nothing, sir."

John Smith wanted to ask what the sniffing was all about, but Baines had already started off towards the school, and honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care. There were not many hours left until the dance, and no sniffling unnerving boy was about to distract him.

Distracted, he gave someone orders to take post when all of a sudden he noticed Rose and Latimer walking back to the firing range together, engaged in a seemingly pleasant conversation. A smile rose from the pit of his stomach as he giddily rushed to catch up with them, all the while trying to fix his collar to look as attractive as possible.

"… I'm sorry if I got you all excited for nothing," he heard Rose apologizing.

Latimer nodded courtly, though the chuckle that escaped him served to crack his usual stiff politeness. A dark, humorless chuckle, it was. "I had a feeling you were making it up. Seeing how my mother has fallen ill months ago."

Rose's breath hitched, as did John's. He had no idea. Latimer never said, the poor boy. The distraught teacher took a respectful step back, figuring Rose's motherly air would do the boy better than he could.

"God, I'm _s_o sorry!" she gasped, brushing his hair affectionately.

They both halted, surprised at her bold move.

_I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself._

Latimer's head was washed with so many images of so many worlds and so many people and so many _stars_. The images moved so fast out of his reach. _I take the words. I scatter them._ There was a box and running and a general feeling of freedom and disarray.

Rose felt a tiny wave of electricity go through her body and wondered if she was gonna get fired for stepping out of line. _Yet again_.

They both shook it off.

"Not at all," Latimer insisted, softening ever so slightly. "I wasn't especially looking forward to a _beating_. I guess… thanks?"

Rose laughed, still apologetic. "You're welcomed," she said. "But still, I'm sorry."

"Good day!" John chirped as he finally felt it was appropriate to join the conversation.

Latimer stiffened, "Mr. Smith. Sorry, I… received urgent news from my mother."

John nodded dismissively, "It's quite alright. Off you go."

Latimer stared at him for a moment. He saw images of this man, when the housemaid touched him. Dressed in a bizarre suit, holding a bizarre metal stick that emitted blue light, running around from… _creatures_. Latimer often saw things, guessed things, and he was usually right, but clearly, he wasn't right today. He was seeing nonsense. He was actually a bit disappointed with himself.

"Timothy?" John asked, kindly and _pointedly_.

Latimer jolted, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

John shook his head at his retreating form, "I don't know what is the matter with these boys today. They're behaving so strangely." Still disturbed, he turned to Rose, but his face instantly brightened at her lovely smile, which he returned with enthusiasm. "Oh! Hello! Rose, how, uh, how a-"

"I'm great, thanks," she teased. "And yes, this _is_ a lovely day."

His face _nearly_formed a smirk. "That's very rude of you, Ms. Tyler."

"So sorry, Mr. Smith," she said, not sorry in the least.

He scratched his head, "Do I really always say that?"

With a nod, Rose assured him, "Every single time. How am I, and isn't it just a lovely day?"

They shared an amiable laugh. John cleared his throat, his eyes wide and engaging, "Will you… will you not go for a walk with me? Around the village?"

Rose grinned, wondering why his sentences always seemed to get stuck in the beginning. She was used to long, never-ending sudden monologs, or short, snippy, almost urgent sentences, as if _he_ was impatient to get to the real fun. _Brilliant, fantastic, horrific, so sorry. Run._

Then again, she was also once used to a northern accent and giant ears, and she managed to get over _that_. If she could adjust to the same man with a new _face_, she could certainly adjust to the same face with a new _man_. Rose Tyler had learned to adjust to anything, and at this point, she was pretty used to not receiving any warning before her world turned upside down.

Well, this bloke was nice, at least. And he was all she had left in the world after the battle of Canary Wharf. Him, and a spaceship that was practically crippled.

What was it that he asked? Oh, right. "A walk? It depends."

John frowned, slightly discouraged, "On what?"

"On whether I can be spared, and on whether you just authorized a beating for that little boy."

His cheeks turned a scary shade of red. "Ah. Yes, I… I suppose I did. But, really, I didn't like it one bit. If the headmaster wasn't… I mean, he was right _there_. Breathing down my neck, as they say. Do they say that? Never mind. Either way, it was not my will. I'm glad you rescued him from that particular fate," the praise was followed by a bashful, pleading smile.

Rose sighed. _Different mentality; get used to it or go home_. She pushed the disgust to the farthest point she could find. "Alright, we'll let that slide. I'll go see if I can be speared." With another deep breath, she smiled playfully, "Be right back."

John was unable to resist following her with his gaze. Two months it took this young woman to slowly creep into his heart and built herself a fortress there. Or maybe, he thought, remembering their first meeting, maybe she was always there, in his heart, waiting for him to realize it. It was only when she was gone from sight, that his mind was clear enough to wonder what it meant to _let it slide_.

Slide _where_?

"Mr. Smith," the headmaster's voice surprised him.

John wheeled around, breath hitched. "Headmaster, yes. Yes, Sir. I was just on my way to the village."

The headmaster nodded knowingly. "On your own?"

Blushing slightly, John shrugged. "Well, uh. Not… _exactly_."

"I see," the headmaster murmured. "May I guess your companion's identity?" He didn't wait for an answer, "Am I correct in thinking it's the new housemaid, Ms… Taylor, was it?"

"Tyler," John corrected instinctively, before even processing the headmaster's question. "Rose Tyler. And yes, you're quite right." Something suddenly occurred to him, a reason for this odd conversation, "Is there… some rule against that, sir?"

The headmaster shook his head. "Your free time is your own, Mr. Smith, but…" he placed a fatherly hand over John's shoulder, "I have to advise you to reconsider this… _attachment_."

John fought the urge to shove the man's hand away with disgust. Instead, he simply asked, with barely contained anger, "Sir?"

"Don't get vexed, Mr. Smith. I am merely speaking from personal experience. Painful, personal experience, regarding a very dear cousin of mine. I won't bore you with the details, but he has unfortunately and painfully discovered that these… _women_, these widows or orphans or simply woman whose economical state force them to seek employment, they… usually do so in hopes of securing themselves a husband."

John felt almost dizzy with fury. "My mother was a nurse, Mr. Headmaster."

The headmaster cleared his throat nervously. "Well, a nurse is a much more educated and accomplished woman than a… _housemaid_, clearly." The headmaster looked around, making sure they were alone. "I know in this day and age, social class is not taken into account as it used to, but I advise you, Mr. Smith, to closely investigate Ms. Taylor's intentions."

"_Tyler_, sir," John corrected through greeted teeth.

"Yes, of course," the headmaster said, taking a step back. Perhaps he realized his friendly advice was not incredibly well received by the young professor. "As you wish, Mr. Smith. Enjoy the village dance tonight. I assume Ms… _Tyler_is to accompany you?"

"Yes, of course," John mimicked, and only a second after remembered to add, "_Sir_."

With a last nod, the headmaster finally took his leaving, only to be replaced a second later by Rose herself. She wore a big coat and an even bigger smile, "I'm all set, Mr. Smith."

John instantly felt better, though his smile was tighter than usual.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked softly.

"Not at all, Rose," he quickly said, offering her his arm. Again, unnecessary physical contact. "It's just that sometimes I wish the world would be _considerably_smaller."

:-:

Rose threw herself on the bed, giggling like a teenager.

Her state could have been defined as either _charmed_, or, more modernly, _crushing._

John Smith was sweet and sensitive and _so very_ open. He eagerly told her all he could remember of the fake history the TARDIS designed for him (quite badly, as he sounded like a walking encyclopedia), evaded no question of hers, and understood her weariness to discuss her own life.

_It was the battle of Canary Wharf._

_Was that a local battle? I'm not familiar with it._

_Does it really matter? It was ugly. That's how battles are. My family was… taken away. I survived just barely, but so many other people died that day._

But his chivalrous human traits weren't the best part. The best part of the day had been the living proof that her Doctor still existed somewhere deep inside, in the form of a very impressive trick that saved a baby from a stray piano. It was calculated and precise, almost as if planned by someone who could see the entire fold of time.

_Lucky._

_Lucky, indeed._

Her Doctor was _alive_. Faintly, but so very _alive_. He wasn't just a forgotten story in a frustrated teacher's journal, which was how she felt sometimes. He was a living legend, a hero, a protector of the people of Earth. He was _there_ somewhere, and their day of reunion was rapidly approaching.

It might have damaged John Smith's chances at endearing himself to her as a separate person, but he would never know this anyway, since Rose decided to keep as close to him as possible.

Something felt funny, anyway. Ever since those meteors. Was it possible that the Family-

The door opened abruptly, cutting off her train of thoughts. Jenny stood at the doorway, and _sniffed_.

"You alright, Jenny?" Rose inquired happily.

Jenny nodded, narrowing her eyes. "Very alright."

"Are you sure? You sound a bit sick. D'you fancy a cuppa? I mean… a cuppa tea?"

_There are several scents, but they are faint, mother of mine._

Jenny's head snapped at Rose's direction. _This one knows something._She sent him a mental image of Rose, who was fussing over the tea. _The scent is quiet, but firm. She is not the Doctor, but she must know him, family of mine._

_Find out, wife of mine._

_Interrogation, husband of mine?_

_Best investigate her possessions first, wife of mine._

"Here you go," Rose said, settling a steaming cup of tea in front of her. "Best medicine 'round here… at these times. I wish I could sit with you, but really, I have to get ready."

Jenny nodded, and _sniffed_, causing Rose to stumble back. She smiled coldly, "Go ahead. Have fun."

:-:

Rose spun around merrily.

_John Smith_gaped.

She smiled expectantly.

"… _Oh_," he practically wheezed.

Rose giggled, "Can I consider that a good reaction?"

It took him a second, but his voice did return to him. "You look _beautiful_!"

_Considering_? "Thank you," she said, lowering her head. "You look very handsome. Just let me…" she moved closer to straighten his bow tie, seemingly unaware of the affect it had on the John's poor, sensitive _single_heart. "This is a bit crooked," she murmured absently. "There. Perfect."

He cleared his throat and tried to even his breathing. "Well, thank you. I, uh… shall we go?" he extended his arm to her, which was rapidly becoming a tradition between them. He didn't remember himself as a person who favored physical contact, but _oh_, how he loved to have her so close to him like this. Maybe he had never fallen in love before.

Well, his memories were faked, after all, so it was very likely that he didn't.

Rose accepted his arm, and watched in delight how his grin broadened, almost to _Doctor_-size. If she tried hard enough, she could pretend. But she didn't have to. It was nice, actually, to be out on a date with a man whose intentions –and feelings- were clear. And the fact that he wore the Doctor's face was all for the better.

She tilted her head, "You do know how to dance, though. Don't you?"

He frowned, "I'm… not certain, actually."

Rose sighed quietly. _Thanks a lot, TARDIS. Better_hope_he can._ "Well, we'll have to find out, then."

:-:

"She suspected nothing, mother of mine?"

"It doesn't matter, son of mine. As soon as we find her, she'll be apprehended."

"She's hiding something," the son remarked, voice devoid of any emotions. "She's not from this time. She must be hiding the Doctor."

"There is no trace of him," the mother said, _sniffing_away at a stray hat.

The son opened the nightstand's drawer and pulled out a leather journal. "She keeps a diary, mother of mine?" The mother shook her head. The son opened the journal, flipped through the pages, and a smile split his face. "It's about the Doctor, written from his voice. Is it possible the Doctor took _female_form?"

"She smells human, son of mine. She's hiding him away, I'm certain of it."

The father appeared with a flyer for the dance. "This is where she is?" He didn't wait for an answer, "Then this is where we are headed."

The mother smirked, "Daughter of mine is already there."

The son smirked back, "We've been invited to the _dance_."

:-:

I am resisting the urge to write something long and boring here. Resisting. _Resisting._ Okay, resisted. I hope you enjoyed this. And I hope you **REVIEW**if you did, and also if you didn't, though I'm a bit scared of flaming ever since I stumble upon a gentle bloke called Flame Rising. _Shudder_. You might have realized I enjoy replaying the reviews in a slightly ADD fashion. It's good fun. For a hermit.

Anyway, we're venturing close to _Family of Blood_territory. ::smirk::


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:**Yeah, I just bought Doctor Who. It's mine now, so I guess there's no need for the disclaimer. Yes, it is::sigh:: Oh, it is _not_. Stop shaking your head in sympathy at my delusion. And what the hell is going on with _Torchwood_ anyway? I'm missing my weekly Doctor Who fix.

Thanks so much for your awesome **REVIEWS**(again with the bolding. What _is_ that? I don't know why I keep doing that). They were beyond _brilliant_, and God knows I've had fun replying to them. I love you guys so much, I hope you keep liking this story, and telling me your opinion of it. This chapter is very… I want to _tough_, but I'm gonna go with _nerve wracking._ I'm quite a bit insecure about it…

**:-:**

**Chapter 5**

**:-:**

Rose laughed delightedly as John Smith spun her around.

To have her so close to him, in a room full of people, and it was _allowed_. It was not only allowed, it was _expected_. He was allowed to take her hand in his, without gloves or any other silly fabric in between, and to encircle her waist while her hand rested on his shoulder, and people around him _nodded_ and smiled because they were just such a lovely couple.

Well, they _were_ a lovely couple, but that didn't make the laws of society less stupid.

"You _can_ dance!" she announced joyfully.

His radiant smile matched hers. "So can you!" he retorted. "Where did you learn how?"

He realized almost immediately that the comment could be read as an insult and prayed that it wouldn't. Luckily, Rose merely shrugged. "I took classes," she said simply. "When I was a little girl. Ballroom dancing, I loved it."

He chuckled, "Oh, but you dance quite professionally!"

"Well, I had a good practice back in-" _1748_, she almost said, "back in London."

Oh, how he longed to find out how her life looked before that battle that claimed her family. If she did much dancing, then it was possible that her family was from a good social class. Maybe the battle destroyed her house, the family's belongings. It would explain how she came to be a housemaid, and he had to admire her for taking quite a depressing destiny in such good stride.

Apparently, she interpreted his admiring silence differently. "What? Too worldly for a measly maid?"

Her tone carried something of annoyance in it, but he opted not to act defensive. Surely she lived in the same world as he did. A world where her shoddy, and at times, _inconsistent_ past merited him a justified right to be suspicious. "Honestly? I don't know, exactly. Is it?"

Rose tried to count backwards from ten. "_Apparently_."

The headmaster's words were a poison, slowly spreading through his veins. Contaminating him with thoughts that would have never occurred to him otherwise. Suddenly it made sense that Rose, the mysterious brave Champion of his dreams, was really just looking for an easy exit from a life of demeaning physical labor.

He cleared his throat. "But you don't wish to be a maid always, do you?"

It didn't take a genius to recognize that the question was not innocent. "Why do you ask?"

John squirmed uncomfortably. Did he have to spell it out, _really_? Civilized people knew that some things were better left to common sense. "I'm just saying… surely it isn't a very enjoyable profession. I hardly see why one would _choose_ it willingly."

For a moment, her anger was forgotten and replaced by the sweet feeling of _anticipation_. "Well, of course no one _chooses_ this, but I don't see any other option. I'm just lucky that it's not permanent, no chance."

"What-what do you mean?"

Rose's expression was incredulous. "What part of that's giving you trouble?"

They were not dancing anymore. They were not even in the dancing area. They had long since moved politely to a more secluded area. John had just realized they were situated perfectly for an argument, albeit a silent one, and that Rose's language was so very _odd_. "What exactly are you planning to do to? How are you planning to change your situation? I'm curious, really."

She smirked. "What are you really asking, _Mr_. _Smith_?"

_Just you dare,_ she thought. _Say I'm after your money. Just you_dare_say it._

The music started to hammer in John's head. It was bad enough that he was drowning into a situation that felt very bad and that he couldn't see an exit from – he didn't see a need for a soundtrack to accompany him. He hadn't thought he'd be one for dances, and he had been right. He also hadn't thought the headmaster's words would ooze into his brain so thoroughly, but there he had been wrong.

"Would you like to take a walk? Outside, in the fresh air?"

Honestly, he hoped that by the time they were far enough away from the dance, she'd forget the subject ever came up. He made a note to start talking about _anything_ else once they were out.

:-:

Of course, he discovered that since he couldn't actually think of anything else, it was a bit hard to find an unrelated topic of conversation. He gazed up at the sky with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna stay in this village forever, _lovely_as it may be," Rose said quietly, avoiding his startled gaze. "Well, I'm not knocking it or anything, but what does it have for me?"

John's face fell. Was he not enough? What more was she looking for? "What do you mean?" he asked, terrified of her answer.

Rose pursed her lips, which was a gesture that seemed so familiar to him for some reason. She was still stubbornly avoiding his gaze. "I can't be a nurse or a teacher, I don't have the A-levels for it. I can't be a shopkeeper or, I dunno, a police officer, because I'm a woman. So what can I be? A maid? Is that it?"

His knees almost buckled in relief, "Work? This is about _employment_?"

"Well, yeah," she frowned. "What's so funny about that?"

_Oh, thank God._ The fact that she didn't consider marrying him just to up her social class only made him want to marry her more. Human psychology was crazy like that. His blissful feeling served to feed him courage. "Rose," he started, clearing his throat. "You know, there are… other ways to make life better in this very village."

"Like how?" she asked obliviously.

He deflated, suddenly not so brave. "Well, for example… _marriage_, or, uh… No, really, there's just marriage."

Rose chuckled, "Thanks. That helps. So I'm supposed to marry off and then sit at home for the rest of my life?"

His eyebrow twitched slightly in the first traces of anger. "And what's so bad about that?"

She clenched her fists, "What's so good?"

"Isn't it what women wish for? A peaceful, _stable_ life? A husband that can supply them with security?"

Shaking her head in disgust, Rose snapped, "Maybe in this miserable time, but not where I come from."

"Which is where? London can't be _that_ different," he hissed.

"Thank God it _is_ that different!"

He just couldn't understand why she was being so _stupid_. What did she think was waiting for her out there? He wanted to give her everything he had, and she was just _dismissing_ it like it was nothing. It made him quite vexed, in all honesty. "Then why did you come here today? With me? Were you just… killing time?"

Did people say that? Killing time? Sometimes he found himself saying such strange things.

Rose's expression was steely. "You asked me, and you're a nice bloke. I thought it'd be fun." She tilted her head, almost sneering at him, "Did you think I was expecting an engagement ring by the end of the week, _Mr_. _Smith_?"

His anger transformed into melancholy within seconds. "Well, maybe not quite so soon," he murmured, looking up at her sadly. "But someday… I had hoped you were at least…"

"What do you _want_ from me?" she interrupted, panting desperately. "One minute you're all charm and smiles, and the next… you go and treat me like I'm one of your _little boys_!"

He frowned, "I have no idea what you're…"

Rose waved a dismissive hand at that. "Well, I'm not!" she snapped. "You don't get to act like you're _so much_smarter than me. I'm not your property, and I'm not your _student_."

John's expression was colder than ice. "No," he said. "You're just my housemaid."

_You. Don't let me abandon you._

It was only after a few seconds of Rose's shell-shocked stare, that _John Smith_ realized just what he had said. He repeated the headmaster's words, the very ones that disgusted him so. He couldn't think of something worse he could've said, and _God_, did he want to take it back.

Rose shook her head, chuckling humorlessly. "Oh, well, not anymore, Mr. Smith."

He slapped his forehead. "No, wait, Rose. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, but you're right," she assured him. "After all, I _am_ just a housemaid. I should be _grateful_ to have such a nice bloke for a master like you are."

John stomped on the ground, "For God's sake, stop it with the _bloke_ nonsense! What the hell does that even…" He took a deep breath, "Please, listen. I didn't mean that."

Rose shook her head. The bitter smile she flashed him made his skin crawl. "Gosh," she breathed, feigning awe. "What other master would be so _generous_as to invite his housemaid to a dance? Let her catch a glimpse of the world, the poor girl."

To his surprise, John found that he was practically too _devastated_ to breathe. "Rose, now stop it. You've got it all wrong," he pleaded.

But she didn't stop. She was too consumed in her roll to stop. "You think you're so _evolved_, Mr. Smith. So proud of yourself for treating me like a _person_. Well, I've got news for you, mate, I'm more of a _person_ than you'll ever be, you _hypocrite_! You don't deserve the face you're wearing."

There was no way this shadow of a person was ever the _Doctor_.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

She ignored him. "I don't ever want to take another order from you! Right now, I don't even wanna look at you. Go back to your dance, _Mr. Smith._"

Oh, he's had enough. Taking a deep, furious breath, he said, "Oh, I will, thanks. It was nice..." _knowing you?_ He cleared his throat. "Well, better run off to collect your belongings, Ms. Tyler, seeing that you're so _keen_ on leaving. Wouldn't want to keep you."

She curtsied mockingly, "Still as _gracious_as ever, I see."

"Oh, and… I want my journal back!" Honestly, at this point he had no idea what he was saying anymore. Words sputtered from his mouth without his expressed permission.

Rose stumbled back, surprisingly hurt. "What?"

He might as well have asked for the TARDIS key, but she _had_ to remember that this wasn't her Doctor, because otherwise she'd go mad. The Doctor would never do this to her, she had to believe that.

John's angry nod was much firmer than his knees, which barely supported his weight at this point. "I hardly think you should keep it after everything you just said to me!" he breathed. "I want it back! That journal is dear to me, so if you hate me so much, give it back!"

He realized that sentence made no sense whatsoever, and that somehow they had managed to walk further away from the dance than he thought.

Rose shook her head, appalled. "It's in my nightstand, knock yourself out."

She turned away from him and started to walk away, and suddenly his anger was completely forgotten. "You-you-you won't be… returning for your belongings?" he called after her.

She looked at him, eyes glistening suspiciously. "No, thank you."

"But this is silly," he tried, annoyed with himself for being so worried. "Look, where will you go?"

Rose snorted, "Worried about me suddenly? Don't worry, I _think_ I'll manage." She curtsied again, "Goodbye, Mr. Smith, I wish you all the best."

John stared after her as she started to walk away. One step and then another and she didn't stop.

He wondered if she'd really leave, or if she was just angry, or if she was waiting for him to apologize, which he _would not_. To his horror, it quickly dawned on him that it was just like Rose to _really_ leave out of spite, and that'll he'll probably never see her again.

Well, good riddance. Insolent woman, how he _ever_ put with her was anyone's guess. They were all right. There's was not an ounce of reason why he should have tolerate any of this.

Her silhouette was very nearly vanished from his view, and suddenly he knew beyond knowledge that every day he wouldn't see her would be another nail in his proverbial coffin, a pain that would be too much for him to bear. Let alone _forever_. The earth spun beneath him at 57,000 miles an hour and if he let _go_.

There was no possible way this was the ending to their story.

"Rose!" he managed to whimper, but she was already too far gone to hear him.

_Very_nearly vanished.

His heart jolted him awake with a painful twist and he started running. Blind to everything around. He could have run into a tree if it were standing between him and Rose's retreating form. Couldn't even bring himself to call her name, but a few steps before he reached her, she must have heard his disoriented footsteps, because she turned around with alarm.

The gap between them was closed before she could even _think_ to say anything, and even if she wanted to, she couldn't have had, because the restrained and awkward _John_ _Smith_ grabbed her by the shoulders and brought his lips crashing down on hers.

It was pure punishment at first; for making him worry and miserable and for just _leaving_like he didn't matter at all. His teeth scraped her lips angrily and he was pretty sure he shouldn't have been enjoying it as much as he did. A proper man like him, who would have guessed.

She moaned, but fought back vigorously, angry with him for reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom, but it was good. _Furiously_ passionate like he thought existed only in cheap romantic novels.

Their anger crumbled slowly, and he began to realize that he was kissing the woman he had loved for _so long_ and she was kissing him back, and she didn't hate him anymore, or so he hoped. The world was slowly coming to a standstill. Nothing was alive but him and her and that moment. Without ever breaking apart (he rather wished he never had to), he tentatively brought one of his hands to cup her cheek, and then the other one.

Her frozen cheeks burned against his skin. Burned in the most terrific of ways.

Rose's arms went to encircle his waist, drawing her body closer to his. He wondered what she was thinking, if this was as heavenly to her as it was to him.

They slightly pulled apart when air became a necessity.

"Please don't go," he whispered.

Rose's eyes burned with unshed tears. Slitheen, Werewolves, they were easy. But this… this was just _cruel._ The Doctor had kissed her, only it wasn't really him, and this wasn't really real. But he _kissed_her.

She whimpered, "I can't do this anymore."

John, of course, took it to mean that she was sick of her life as a lowly maid. He took both her hands in his and planted random kisses on them every few words. "You won't have to." _Kiss_. "I swear." _Kiss_. "Just don't leave. Rose, I don't know what I'd do._Please_, don't leave."

"Sometimes it's so hard to even look at you," she blurted without thinking.

He kissed her again, every fiber of him reaching to her in a desperate plea. Hardly trying to make sense of her words anymore. "_Please_, Rose. Don't ever leave me. My perfect Rose. I want to spend my life with you."

Rose was crying in earnest now. _You can spend your life with me, but I can't spend my life with you._ After that day, she tried to stop hoping. She knew very well that all things must come dust, that all things must end. To have _him_say it to her now shattered her heart to countless pieces. It was so incredibly _unfair_. This night would haunt her for weeks to come, probably more.

"Stop it," she begged, her breath hitching painfully. "This is _mean_. You look just like him, but you're… he's just some _story_. He's just some story in some journal some guy dreamt up, and I can't…"

And then it all suddenly clicked.

_Those creatures are hunters. They can_sniff_out anyone._

_Sniff._

The Doctor lived in the watch, and lately as some story in some journal.

In some _journal._ Which was her in her room, completely unprotected.

Her room, which she shared with _Jenny_, who _sniffed_ at her at least three times when last they spoke.

_Number Twelve: The Family members need to assimilate bodies for themselves._

Sniff. Bodies. _Journal_. It was all a bit too much. Her intuition screamed at her that she was so _stupid_ and why didn't she realize before?

She gasped.

"Rose, what are you talking about?" John asked urgently, holding her hands against his chest.

Rose's eyes widened in terror. "The journal."

"_What_?"

"Mr. Smith, we've gotta-"

A deafening, horrible bang interrupted her. It came from the direction of the dance. Followed by Jenny's malicious voice, which seemed to carry over the wind. "_Ro_-se?" she drawled. "_Ro_-se! Where'd you run off to, friend? I'd like a word."

:-:

::whistles:: Phew, what a _kafuffle_.

So… um… what do you think? As I said, a bit insecure with this. Pretend I have a little chibby version of the Doctor, who is shyly nudging at the purple **REVIEW** button with his little chibby converse.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:**Too happy to think of anything. Can hardly remember my own name. You wouldn't know who to sue. The Doctor is pretty. So is Rose. That is all.

YES! I Expelliaramus-ed that writer's block back to the hell where it came from! Aside from work, who took way more time than it deserved, this chapter simply _refused_ to be written. It kept poking at me with technical difficulties and nitpicks and wouldn't let me be! I can't tell you how relieved I feel, and how sorry for making you wait _so_ long. I feel very guilty. ::puppy eyes:: Chiby Doctor sends his apologies in the form of watery puppy eyes. He's very useful, that one.

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. I vow to reply them, _someday_. They're life savers, really. I'm only 18 and I have _two_ jobs which don't pay well but I can't quit from. And one is a national service to the _country_, so you see how I could use encouragement, yeah? Anyway, I do, of _course_, read and love them, so please continue? I won't even bold it this time, promise. _Well_, maybe just once.

**:-:**

**Chapter 6**

**:-:**

Rose's world crumbled around her, and not for the first time. You'd think she'd be used to it by now.

_John Smith_ gripped her frozen hands, eyes widened to their fullest capacity. "Rose, what's happening?" he asked, looking between her and the voice's direction. "You're shivering. Who are they?"

"We were so close," Rose whimpered. "I can't believe this. I don't…" She disconnected from him abruptly.

"What…?"

"I can smell you, little Rose," Jenny's voice echoed, sounding so much closer now, so clearly closing in. "You smell _divine_."

This seemed to snap Rose from her haze. "Okay, I don't like that. Definitely running."

John stomped angrily, "_What_ is going on? I _demand_ you tell me!" The severity dissipated from his face in a matter of seconds. "Please, Rose. Tell me what's happening. I can help. Whatever it is."

Rose shook her head, and without a word, took his hand and ran. She didn't know where they were, but the TARDIS had to be around _somewhere_. They always managed to find her, or she always managed to find them. Everything would be alright if they were just in the TARDIS and _not_ here. She quickened her pace, and John was too perplexed to protest, but he followed her nevertheless.

They took a left turn, and found themselves facing The Family.

Well, they were Jenny, Baines, Mr. Clark and a little girl, but they were _unmistakably_The Family.

Rose stumbled back with a gasp, crashing into John, who miraculously managed to collect himself enough to grip her for support. Chivalry was always to be tested in a time of crisis, and he didn't even know what the crisis _was_, for heaven's sake, but Rose was trembling so violently.

Jenny smirked, "There you are."

Rose whimpered and tried to move away from them, but John noticed in horror that they were surrounded by… Scarecrows! _Living_Scarecrows! He almost wished for a gentleman around to support _him_.

Mr. Clark took out the journal -_his_journal-, eyes never leaving Rose's. "We found this, _Doctor_," he told her, voice simmered in glee. "Right in your room. Silly thing to leave behind."

Rose blinked in confusion. She looked between the Family and _him_ several times before it hit her. They didn't even cast him a secondary glance. They ignored him completely. They were talking to _her_. "Me?" she chocked. "You mean… no! I'm not the Doctor! It's… it's just a journal." She disconnected from John, stepping forward ever-so-slightly so that he'd be even more out of their radar.

Baines _sniffed_ the air, a smile spreading across his face. "Just the faintest of traces. Your disguise is quite a masterpiece, _Doctor_."

John scratched his head, "The… Doctor?"

Rose turned to him coldly, "Mr. Smith, this has nothing to do with you."

_What doesn't_? "But that journal…" he protested.

She cut him off swiftly, "They're just stories." She turned back to the Family and added, "Not my stories."

"You wrote them," _Mother_ said. She wasn't Jenny anymore.

John opened his mouth, but again, Rose was quicker. "I did," she said. "But they are not mine. I'm not the Doctor. I'm _human_. The Doctor's not here."

Daughter, that poor little child, chuckled, "Oh? Then where is he?"

Rose's mind ran at 57 thousand miles an hour. Something clever, something quick, something believable, easily explained, logical. "He hid me in this time!" she blurted. Yeah, that sounded good. "Hid me, yeah… from you. He said it'd be best if we… split up." The air she breathed in was highly insufficient. "I don't know where he's gone off to. _Far away,_ is my guess."

Baines tilted his head. "You're lying," he crooned.

Rose tilted her head right back, struck with a sudden surge of confidence. "Right, sure I am. The _whole_ of Time and Space, and the Doctor would choose Earth, 1913. _This_ place. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

To the Family it obviously did.

"He said there were worlds that could conceal him better!" she insisted. "Cities so big that even _you_would get lost in them." She glanced at John briefly, smothering a sigh, "My job was to sit quietly and wait for him to come get me."

"She is lying, Husband of Mine."

Father _sniffed_. "Maybe not, Wife of mine. There are just faint traces of the Time Vortex, no Time Lord energy. She is _human_." Rose breathed a sigh of relief, which got stuck in her throat at the Father's next statement. "The traces can sustain us for years to come."

"Enough to find the Doctor," Baines commented, smirking cruelly at her. "In one of those _big_ cities that can conceal him."

"Or maybe we'll just wait for him here, wait for him to come back for his little _friend_," Jenny suggested. "Doesn't end well for you either way."

Rose looked around wildly, searching for any possible exit. How far were those scarecrows, anyway? Could they outrun them? The Doctor, was he safe? "You don't expect me to just… _let you_, do you? I'll fight you. You'll never get the Doctor."

John, who's had quite enough of this nonsense, thank you, decided to exploit the fact that he was apparently invisible to these people. He put into use all the semi-army training he's ever had in those fake memories of his, and sneaked quietly in the little girl's direction. Ethics be damned, he was sick of this. She was small, and, more importantly, _engrossed_in the mad confrontation which was somehow triggered by his stupid journal.

_Cultural differences_, some people just didn't know how to treat stories for what they were.

Rose seemed to figure out this ingenious coarse of action, because she started talking again, shifting any possible attention away from him. "You know you'll never win," she taunted. "No one defeats the Doctor. He's brilliant, and he's got me. We've 'ad worse than you lot."

"You're not fooling us, little girl," Father said.

"We are _The Family_," Brother reminded her.

Rose waved her arm, "Whatever. In a few weeks, you'll be something we joke about over chips. You'll be a just a story, and not an interesting one, even."

John tried very hard not to concentrate on anything she was saying. That _madness_... where was it coming from? They were just dreams, nothing but _fairytales_. And what was worse, while he appreciated her distraction, _The Family_, or however they called themselves, became more furious by the minute. If he wasn't quick, they might actually _kill_ her. Over a _journal_.

"You're so pathetic," Rose snarled.

"We are epic!" Father screamed, raising his gun to her head.

"_Don't!_" John screamed desperately, mirroring the Father's motion. He vaguely recognized the terrorized sounds that came out of his throat as his voice. "You… you _let her go_! …Or so help me _God_, I will shoot you all down with this… _thing_! I swear, I will! _Let her go_!" The Family flinched back, which served as some much needed boost of confidence. "You're all _mad_!"

"Are you planning to shoot all of us down, _professor_?" Baines asked cheekily.

"Oh, _yes_!" John announced, and for a minute it seemed like the Doctor was back. And then it was gone. "I will… _certainly_shoot you, unless Rose walks over to me, _slowly_… without any of you moving… anything! And you… you better call off those…" he pointed at the scarecrows, "those… _those_!"

Baines nodded, and the scarecrows retreated, opening a path for them.

Rose clung to him and he wrapped his free arm around her, happier beyond words to have her back again in his arms, corporeal and very much alive. As stupid as this _supposed_ gun looked, he had a feeling it was real, and they aimed it at his Rose's _head_! Oh, he would have them jailed if it was the last thing he did on this earth, the nerve of them!

He really wished someone would tell him what was happening.

They started to run. To nowhere, it seemed. Rose was leading and he was trying not to lose her in the dark. And the more they ran, the more he wondered, _why_? What were they running from? Was this some sort of joke? Some small-town trick? A small-town crime family? But Rose was from London, she couldn't have anything to do with this.

Well, she _said_she was from London. She said a lot of other things, and most of them made no sense, or contradicted each other, or just plain _scared_ him. She was the only person in the world who knew about his journal, which he still wasn't sure how fit into this whole thing, but either way, she was connected to them.

He halted.

Rose noticed after a few more steps and stopped as well. "What?" she asked, panting heavily. "Look, it's not much longer, we shouldn't stop."

John looked at her, looked closely. Rose Tyler, his beloved. Suddenly she looked completely foreign. Her hair color didn't quite match her eyebrows, how was that possible? Her dress didn't fit her social class in the least. She was _different_, she didn't fit into his world. She was _wrong_.

Slowly, disbelieving his own actions, he raised the gun –at _her_.

Rose's eyes widened, "What the hell… what're you doin'?"

Her accent was _wrong_, he's never noticed that before. He tried to aim the gun to her heart, _not_ her head. His hands quivered, nearly causing him to drop the hideous thing. "You…" he choked, his throat throbbing. "Rose, you… who _are_ you?"

"Oh my God, this is _so_ not the time! Mr. Smith, let's just go! I'll explain everything," she whispered urgently.

His grip on the gun tightened, the shaking started to subside. His mind was forming a clear picture of this all. She was a _maid_, and a _woman_. She wasn't to be trusted. The principal warned him about this, he should have listened. "No. No, no, no. Who are you? Tell me now, or else… I'll leave!"

"Please, I _promise_."

"_No_."

She threw her hands in despair, "God, are you serious?" He nodded. The shaking stopped. The Doctor, John Smith, _whoever_, was pointing a gun at her. "Alright, I'm _Rose_, I… I travel with the Doctor. He's everything you've dreamt about. He's real, and we're running from those people, and now we're in danger, so let's go!"

He dropped his hands, though not the gun. "_What_?"

Rose rolled her eyes impatiently, "Listen, they found me. I've got to hide now, and you 'ave to come too because they know we're together, alright?" she tried to add a soothing tone to her words. "They'll come after _you_, Mr. Smith. I'll explain everything once we're safe. Please?"

"But… they're just _dreams_!"

Oh, what a complete… "It's a… telepathic field thing, sensitive people pick up on it. You… you've picked up my dreams, my… memories, with the Doctor." Something suddenly occurred to her, a brilliant idea. "I can prove it!" she called happily. "You drew a… device, remember? A metal pen?"

"Yes, I remember," he said tightly, so very afraid.

She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over to him. "It's called a Sonic Screwdriver, very handy. Bit tricky, though," she warned, when he got a bit too adventurous. "I wouldn't press that, bound to lose a finger."

"This is… _extraordinary_!" he gasped, running his fingers over the little device. "It feels so _real_!"

Rose smiled, proud of herself and her life and her Doctor. She was handling this well, she thought. "I can do better!" she chirped. "The Blue Box, remember? It's here, and it's the safest place I can think of. Would you like to see it?"

John realized that while he was distracted, Rose had managed to take a hold of his hand and they were walking again. He decided this was all a dream, the realest dream he has ever had. He even felt pain and everything. When had it started? At the dance? Before that? After their walk? Maybe he lost consciousness after falling down the stairs and nothing had been real ever since because he was in a _coma_.

"I'm dreaming, then," he murmured as they quickened their pace.

Rose shrugged, "Sure, if that helps. It'll all be over soon."

This _had_ to be it. He _had_to convince himself. "This'll be a lovely chapter in my journal," he almost chuckled.

Rose nodded, panting again. "The best. Very vivid. Not much more to go."

"How long have I been asleep?"

She almost sighed, but she had to be patient. The TARDIS was practically calling out to her. "I dunno, take a wild guess."

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm your subconscious and I'm telling you to _run_!"

They ran.

:-:

Tim ran as well.

His head was full of images and ideas that couldn't _possibly_be his. He was well beyond childhood fairytales, and he found it unlikely that he would dream about Professor Smith and his _maid_. He liked them, but it was impossible.

He woke up from a paralyzing nightmare and knew that this was more than just dreaming or _guessing_. The _Doctor_and Rose were in a trouble, and he had to help. He knew where they were going, and he knew why, and he knew who was after them, and he knew, and he knew, and he knew.

He knew _everything_.

The Doctor had to know too, he just _had_ _to_.

He ran.

:-:

_The trace is fading_.

She's getting away, Mother of Mine.

_She will probably head for the woods, to hide_.

Father of Mine, you will go to school. Search her belongings. Mother of Mine, we'll find _her_.

_Daughter of Mine, you'll read the diary, find the Doctor._

:-:

::Whistles::

Things rarely go well these days, heh? Especially if your name is Rose and you are _awesome_. Well, awesomeness comes with a price, it seems. Hope you'll like this, and that you'll let me know. *Chiby Doctor prepares his puppy eyes* *prepares some tears* And… *puppy eyes*. He's very happy with the Rose he received from **WerewolfDoctor** (inseparable, those two). They spend all day eating biscuits from you guys and ask for some Jelly Babies too.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:**This show is only mine come bedtime. Which is to say, in my _dreams_, not that I own only during the night and turn it over back to RTD every morning. That would be _silly_.

This was a complicated chapter very hard to write. Took me forever, and then I kept changing and switching and there were never _three proper hours_ to proofread the entire thing. Eventually, I cut out a big chunk and left an even more annoying cliffhanger than the one I originally planned. I'd claim that it was my mean heart, but really, it was just getting to 9 pages… and maybe I am a little mean, yeah.

I'm practically doing this in the middle of the night, though – so yeah, difficult chapter. But it's all worth it when I read your wonderful _**REVIEWS**_ (sorry, couldn't resist). So please, leave some? You already know Chibby Doctor's reaction to this plea. (Hint: starts with a _p_, and rhymes with _flout_)

Thanks to requialexa for checking and correcting those silly errors that can damage a story so. Hopefully she'll do the same with the rest of the chapters. (This was my cheap way of asking...)

Enjoy!

**:-:**

**Chapter 7**

**:-:**

Twigs and dirt as far as the eye could see, staining his formal, _clumsy_ suit, which was in no way fit for silly midnight marathons. And now the offending garment, that he had every intention of throwing away, was firmly stuck to his back, creating uncomfortable friction with every step he took. Wood and branches scratched at his skin and disrupted his vision. And more dirt, of course; and more twigs. And darkness.

Most of all, darkness.

"This isn't _really_ a dream, is it?"

Rose glanced at him with something that resembled sympathy, "'bout time you clued in, Mr. Smith."

_John Smith_ shook his head in disappointment at a perfectly _sensible_ theory gone to hell. "I'm tired, I'm sweating, and I'm… _sore_."

"I swear it's not far," she assured, quickening her pace.

He wasn't listening. "I keep tripping and it _hurts_. Dreams don't hurt, do they?"

"Not physically, anyway," she murmured under her breath.

He opened his mouth to continue the -frankly- _quite_ tiresome tirade; but Rose, almost as if she could read into his intentions, suddenly broke into a sprint that left no room for conversation. He followed, wordlessly and bitterly, even though every nerve in his body protested against it and begged him to stop.

He had so many questions and so little energy.

And then, just when he felt his ribs were on the verge of cracking -_not metaphorically-_, Rose, bless her, put an end to the pointless, _aimless_ running. He was comforted to see that she looked just as deflated and exhausted as he felt. He made a move to check his surroundings, only to be stopped by his own traitorous body, which sent a violent wave of nausea strong enough to knock the breath out of him permanently.

He fixed his gaze upon a very specific point on the ground and counted slowly.

When he reached _thirty,_ and felt like he might not drop dead anymore, he slowly looked up again, only to find that his surroundings were dank and gloomy, and that before him stood a wooden structure that sort of looked like a… barn.

"Thank God," Rose managed, practically doubled over. "Looks… deserted… Safe here."

John fought the urge to fall to his knees and scream out all the nasty _fake_ curses he knew, because they ran for an eternity and a half just to get to a barn? A _barn_? Was this the safe haven Rose talked about? Well, apparently so, if the grin that split her face was any indication. She practically broke through the door and motioned him to follow her inside.

What choice did he have?

He stepped inside, and his breath caught in his throat.

Blue, blue, blue.

Blue all over.

Absolutely, _positively_blue.

And on the top, just four words, illuminated in the strangest of ways.

_Police Public Call Box_.

The Blue Box of his dreams.

Rose rested against it lovingly, flashing him a smile of pure delight. "I know, I know."

"It-it-it… it's real," he murmured, encircling it with awe, his exhaustion tossed away as an afterthought.

It looked like nothing. Just a box. A bit modern in design, but still a wooden box. And _yet_.

"The Blue Box," he breathed. "My _God_, it's real."

Rose's smile widened as she watched him. It felt like _finally_ coming home. The Doctor and The TARDIS and Rose Tyler, _reunited_. In the single, joyous moment that her weary mind created for her, the Doctor remembered who he was and it would be alright because he had a plan. A brilliant, _fantastic_ plan that would solve this whole mess in a flash of Sonic. Oh, and they'd have chips and laugh and go somewhere with flying cars.

But then John mumbled a very _non_-Doctor _bloody hell_, and the feeling faded. Again she found herself _utterly_alone with a stranger that depended on her to save him, in a time period she hated and which hated her right back, with no plan, no foreseeable solution, and no apparent way out.

John poked at the TARDIS's exterior with his index finger, but otherwise kept a safe distance from it.  
Rose imagined the Doctor would have probably licked it clean by now.

"There's an _inside_ too, you know," she pointed out.

He made a noise she couldn't interpret, but didn't sound remotely eager.

"Don't you wanna go in?" she asked, frowning. "I thought it was the only reason you didn't _shoot_ me back there."

He cleared his throat nervously, grateful that the darned darkness at least served to hide his reddened cheeks. "Uh, not… not quite the, um, _only_ reason… but anyway, I don't…" he waved dismissively at the terrifying Box. "I mean, I've seen it already, in my dreams. I don't… there's no need to… again. It's very… _alien_. Much too alien for my taste, really."

Rose chuckled, "Well, it is a spaceship, yeah?"

"Why is it wooden?"

"'Cause…" She couldn't believe she was actually asked to describe the wonders of the TARDIS to her own _proud owner_. In the future, if she ever needed to explain the term _irony_, she was pretty sure she'd turn to this very day. "It's a Cloaking Device. A disguise thing. It's meant to blend in."

Well, looking at it, he thought it sounded somewhat unlikely. "Does it work?"

"Sort of."

He tapped the wooden surface carefully. "But… how exactly will we be safe in there? It looks like it could just be burnt down."

She smacked his hand away. "Oi! Don't knock the TARDIS! It's my home." She brushed over it tenderly, "You can't just huff-and-puff it apart like that. The assembled hoards of Genghis Khan couldn't break through those doors… and apparently, they've tried. The TARDIS is the safest place in the whole of Time and Space!" she concluded cheerfully.

John shuddered, "You… live there? In that _thing_?"

Rose cocked an amused eyebrow, "Well, 'course I've got a room, but yeah, basically."

He narrowed his eyes, "Who _are_ you?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Back to that, then? I told you, I'm _Ro-se Ty-ler_. That won't change just 'cause you keep askin'."

"Fine, then, _what_ are you?" he corrected impatiently. "You said you were human, but…"

She shrugged. "I _am_ human, just not from this time."

"Not from this…" he smacked his head in a desperate effort to get it to work. "Well, obviously not," he sputtered. "I mean, I _know_ you're not. I mean, from my dreams. Well… from your… _memories_, you said?" He paused, a frown forming as the words finally stopped pouring out of him, _sans control_. The fog around his brain started to lift.

He realized, _again_, that nothing made sense. He remembered _watching_ her running and laughing and crying and leaping into his arms. "It's odd, though," he said, narrowing his eyes. "They didn't _feel_like your memories. They felt like… _his_."

Once more, Rose was forced to come up with a plausible explanation in record time. "Yeah, I… lied about that. It wasn't my memories you were dreaming up, it was sort of… the Doctor's essence." Oh, she was getting good at this, and John Smith was _very_easily fooled. "It was, like, his, uh, genetic… _mark_ or, um, trace. I was afraid they'd use it somehow."

He gaped at her, "Genetic _what_?"

Hell if she knew, but it sounded good enough. "_Mark_. Genetic mark. Look, Mr. Smith, you don' _really_ expect to understand all this _complicated_alien stuff in a few minutes, do ya?" she asked, adopting a patronizing tone. "It took _me_ months, and I'm from the_future_."

"Months?" he perked. "How long have you traveled with this… _Doctor_?"

Rose wondered how he always managed to leach onto every shred of information that slipped from her mouth. "More than two years, I think," she strained her memory. "Maybe three. Or even three and a half? I dunno, time gets a little out of hand when you're traveling in a… Time Machine."

His eyes narrowed even further, "And you two just… _travel_?"

She huffed in indignation, "What's that? Mind out of the gutter, will ya?"

John averted his gaze, ashamed of himself for losing his manners, even in this bizarre, infernal situation . "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean… I meant, what is your role in…" he pointed at the TARDIS, "_there_? Are you a passenger?"

She shook her head, "I don't think so. I hope not. _No_. Definitely _not_." She took a deep breath, struggling with the words. "We travel around, trying to help. That's what the Doctor does… with me. We try to help. Doesn't always work, mind, but we still… I'm the Doctor's Companion, you can say." Speech failed her, and she bit her lower lip, completely dejected. "I don't know. It's weird, explaining my life like that."

John cleared his throat. "But not… you're not his lover?"

"No."

"But he loves you."

"Oh, I know."

He was taken aback by this. "And do you…" _No, stop_. He wasn't ready for the answer to _that_ question. He shook his head and addressed the more pressing issue on his mind, "Did you lie about anything else to those _people_?"

"Like what?"

He wondered why he always went in circles with her. "Are you really just waiting for him to come back? And then you'll… _leave_?"

Rose smiled softly, seemingly understanding. "That's the plan, yeah."

His mind raced with reasons for her not to. All the way from _but it's not safe!_ to _is it really that exciting?_ and finally, to _I need you to stay, I love you, don't go_. Predictably, he clung to the silliest one, "But his spaceship's here! How exactly is he supposed to come back? Why did he even leave it here? That doesn't seem very bright. How smart is this _alien_ fellow, then?"

Rose tried desperately to ignore the hilarity that was the Doctor, quite literally, insulting _himself_. "He's got another spaceship…" she improvised. "A smaller one. It's called a _shuttle_. Once The Family's dead, I'll just ring for him, and he'll come over… with the shuttle."

"And you'll leave?" he repeated, hoping for a different answer.

"Yeah."

Plain and simple _John Smith_ sighed sadly. "Of course you will. Well, I-I certainly understand why you were so angry before, when I..." his throat clenched. "What I have to offer you, a _small,_ simple life… compared to all that splendor, I can't even imagine how it compares. Honestly, I don't want to. Of course you'll leave. _Of course_."

Rose's hand brushed over his shoulder. "Don't say that. That's not it."

"Yes, it is. Don't lie to me, Rose," he nearly pleaded. "You travel in space, in _time_, with this… man, the Doctor, who sounds like some… some romantic, lost _prince_. He's probably handsome and heroic. Of course _I_wouldn't be enough. I can't blame you for not wanting to give that up… Who would?"

She sighed.

Well, he was handsome and heroic, but this conversation was starting to feel too stupid for comfort.  
Was she _really_ trying to convince a man _whodidn't exist_ that he shouldn't feel insecure about _himself_?

_This is your world, Rose Tyler_.

"Mr. Smith… look at me."

He raised his defeated gaze, every thought and feeling splayed before her to see, and Rose wanted to look away, but she couldn't.

"You're a wonderful man. There's no arguing that." She smiled affectionately. "You're an honest-to-God… _gentleman_! I used to read about blokes like you! You're like Mr. Bingley come to life…" _this has got to do with what, exactly?_ "And _anyway_," she said, back to the point. "You have a good life. Nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn't…"

In a swift rush of overcoming emotions, without sparing a mere moment for mature contemplation, he cradled her cheeks and locked his lips to hers. Rose's response was somewhere between a gasp and a sob, but she didn't pull back. The impact of their _last_kiss had finally started to fade from her consciousness, seeing how she decided to label it as just another _genetic transfer_; and now this. _Again_.

Passion and desire and breathy _adoration_, and from the Doctor. Or his _body_, if nothing else.

In the end, it was _John_who gathered enough of his _fake_breeding to pull away. "God, I'm sorry," he breathed, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry. I just can't think when you're… when you're _around_."

Rose took a deep breath that was meant to balance her, but failed. "It's a'right, don't worry. It was…" _yet another genetic transfer_, "the adrenaline rush. From all that running."

He looked at her for a long time. "Was it?"

She nodded under his hands, staggering slightly, "Yes, it really, _really_ was."

This time, her cheeks were flushed and warm under his frozen palms, and it was an entirely different kind of _terrific_. "I see. Of course." There was a beat, before he asked, "Then what's this?" and kissed her again. Harder this time, almost invading into her, scraping and stroking and exploring, all propriety forsaken.

And this time, when he pulled away, it took her longer to recover. "Still the, uh…" she closed her eyes, opened them again. "Still the adrenaline, yeah. Definitely. Tricky thing, that."

"Rose…" he cooed, fingers tracing her lips softly. "Is there anything I could do that would make you _want_ to stay with me?"

_Please stop please stop please stop._ She couldn't bring herself to push him away. "Well…"

"_Doctor_!"

Rose and John stumbled apart abruptly, startled to the core.

Tim stood at the barn's door, flushed and panting. "They found you! The Family! Doctor, you must hide!"

Rose swallowed hard, "What the hell…?"

John's eyes threatened to pop out. "_Tim_? What are _you_ doing here?"

Tim shook his head frantically, pointing at a random point in the horizon, the perfect picture of _insanity_. "Doctor… the Family, they found you," he repeated. "I know _everything_. You have to hide." He suddenly noticed the TARDIS. "Oh, it's your ship! Excellent!"

"You _too_?" John chocked. He turned to Rose, waggling an accusing finger at her, "Who is _he_?"

Rose shrugged, "I dunno what… Tim, what are you talking about?"

Tim rolled his eyes impatiently, "Listen, I see things. All sorts of things. I know _everything_! Stop pretending!" He pushed past Rose impatiently and situated himself before John. "I know you're the Doctor! I saw him! _Everything_! So many…" his voice faltered.

John looked away, somewhat sadly. "I'm not, Tim. They were just dreams."

"They were just _traces_," Rose insisted.

Tim turned to Rose, seemingly realizing she was also in the room. His furious glare bore into her. "You're _lying_! He doesn't remember, but you do! You're the _BadWolf_! I saw you! I, I saw…" His cheeks were covered in tears and furious red lines. "God, I saw_everything_. All those, those _creatures_, all that death. And the Watch!"

John perked, "What watch?"

"The fob watch. That's where the Doctor's hiding, inside a watch. He's made himself human!" He turned to John, "He made himself… _you_. You're the Doctor, Mr. Smith, and you're in danger."

Rose shook her head, very close to tears herself. "Tim, you've got it all wrong, _stopit_!"

John backed away from her slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. "The watch… there was… something about a watch. But I can't be! It's _impossible_!" Rose nodded encouragingly. John nodded back, relieved. "No, I can't be this… Doctor." He turned to Tim, "You're wrong. I'm John Smith. I was born human, as were you, Tim. Those dreams… they were just that, _dreams_."

"No, they weren't!" Tim barked. "I've never been wrong before, about _anything_!"

John shrugged. "Well, there's always a first time, because you're_clearly_ wrong about this. Now go back to the school, Tim, it's dangerous out here. Go on, now," he nudged him.

Rose looked at the door, and back at Tim, and vice versa. There was only so much sharp thinking she could do in one night. She needed tea, and fast. "Look, never mind, just come inside, the both of you. We really ought to get inside. If you already know… come on, let's get inside."

John shifted, "But, now, really…"

She smiled, "You'll be safe there. And you'll like it, I promise. You too, Tim."

She opened the door with a welcoming flourish and stepped inside without looking back at them. John and Tim exchanged looks, making a silent pact to support each other with anything that might face them, before following her.

John's stomach gave a violent, painful twist.

Inside, everything so… just as he remembered. _Alive_. It was dark, the console was quieter than in his dreams, but other than that, it was just the same. Coral and brown and humming and Rose spinning around with ease. The floor vibrated under him, and he could swear it felt like… _excitement._

"It's…" his voice betrayed him. "This is… _real_. It's all _real_."

"I _knew_ it!" Tim exclaimed.

Rose's beam was so radiant and joyful, that John was sure he was seeing her truly happy for the very first time. Every time she smiled before, it was a lie. Every word that ever came out of her mouth was a shameless lie, even when she told the truth. She had been waiting for her train to come. He had no chance of winning this battle.

"C'mere, both of you," she coaxed. "What're you standing at the door for? You look like you're gonna escape."

Tim tugged at his sleeve, "Do you see, Mr. Smith? I've been right about everything else. You're the Doctor, I can _feel_it."

"Actually!" Rose piped up, . "I can prove he isn't. I've got a picture of the Doctor in my room. I've got loads in my room. You'll see." _Give the girl a medal!_"He's got giant ears and this _stupid_smile… you couldn't look more different, Mr. Smith. Just close the door and come with me, I'll show ya."

John sighed as he closed the door behind him. "You know, for a minute there, I actually started to think…" He chuckled, shook his head, purged the idea from his mind. "How absurd. Me, an _alien_."

"Don't worry," Rose murmured. "Everyone wishes they were the Doctor sometimes."

"And he wishes he were anyone else."

Rose halted abruptly, staring at him.

John looked away and fiddled around with the controls. Touching without really touching. He wasn't sure what he said, but it felt private and ugly and he enrolled every piece of willpower he possessed in order to push it away.

"This is _extraordinary_!" he gasped, changing the subject.

She smiled, "_Frankly magnificent_, actually."

Tim pursed his lips, seemingly starting to doubt himself.

Rose almost crashed on the floor with relief. For all she cared, they could wait this thing out in the TARDIS.

Things were starting to fall into place.

And then _the Doctor_screwed everything up.

:-:

Heh, see? I was gonna end it after the scene that explains this sentence, but _no_!

_**Reviews**_** are dangerously awesome and could lead to extreme Squeeing.**_**Andyet**_


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:**I recently realized I am _just_ like RTD, except I am a woman, and _not_ the owner of Doctor Who.

_Whew_, it's been long since my last update, apparently. I keep promising to cut the delays, but it doesn't seem to be working. So sorry! I'll tell you, though, I wish I actually felt time go by, because to me, it feels like two weeks, tops. Maybe this story, and your awesome, terrific _**REVIEWS**_ can sustain me throughout this stupid year of National Service. I'll be replying them as soon as this chapter is up (even though I usually do it the other way around…)

Anyway, this chapter, as compensation, has a very special guest star, ladies and gentlemen: The Doctor! Don't know about you, but I certainly miss him.

Huge thanks to my intelligent, patient, and fascinating bata, Requialexa (of the land of LJ) and BluWine for pimping me out!

Enjoy!

**:-:**

**Chapter 8**

**:-:**

John looked away and fiddled around with the controls. Touching without really touching. He wasn't sure what he said, but it felt private and ugly and he enrolled every piece of willpower he possessed in order to push it away.

"This is _extraordinary_!" he gasped, changing the subject.

She smiled, "_Frankly magnificent_, actually."

Tim pursed his lips, seemingly starting to doubt himself.

Rose almost crashed on the floor with relief. For all she cared, they could wait this thing out in the TARDIS.

Things were starting to fall into place.

And then _the Doctor_screwed everything up.

A hologram of him appeared before them. Clad in his usual striped suit and John Smith's _face_ (no coat, though). Grinning like he had not a care in the world. Right bloody _there_. A bloody _hologram_. Rose almost doubled over with a jolting migraine.

He cleared his throat festively. "This is Emergency Program…_Two_?" He wrinkled his nose for a second, before shaking his head. "No. No, this is Emergency Program _Three_. Let's hope we never get to Two. Two is… not… especially nice. Or pleasant. Well, _nice_ and_pleasant_ are the same thing, so obviously it can't be one without the other, but still."

John gasped, "Oh my _God_!"

Rose gaped, and breathed, "No _way_." Her gaze traveled between John and the Doctor. "You've gotta be _kidding_ me."

"That-that-that's _me_!" John called, pointing at his hologram, who had stopped arguing with itself over vocabulary issues and was now waiting impatiently for them to finish their discussion.

Tim pointed at him as well, with evident glee. "It's the Doctor! It's him- it's you! I _told_ you!"

"Thanks a lot, Doctor," Rose murmured under her breath.

John jerked away from her, putting as much distance between them as possible. Her betrayal hit him like a dagger in the heart. More and more lies from his beautiful Rose. "He was right. Tim was right all along. You _lied_ to me! _Again_!"

_And again and again and again_. Although, in her defense, it was at his _request_.

Rose emitted a silent sigh as she tried to edge closer to him. "Mr. Smith…"

He stepped back even further, face crumpling in revulsion. His hand crept suspiciously to his pocket, where she knew he still had the gun. "_No_!" he called. "D-d-don't you come _near_ me, you deceitful woman!" As she feared, he pulled it out and kept shifting its aim between her heart and the Doctor's hologram. "I'm _warning_ you! This is _madness_! Who _are_ you? What do you _want_?"

Tim crashed to the floor, cradling his head between his knees. "It's him… it's Mr. Smith," he murmured. "He's… in the watch. Everything… all that _is_, all that _was_…"

"I'm not this _Doctor_!" John cried. "I _can't_ be! It's _impossible_! He's… he's just a _story_!"

"Calm down, Mr. Smith, it's alright," she tried.

"… all that ever _could_ _be_. Everything…" Tim continued.

Rose looked between the two, "Please, the both of you, this isn't-"

"… must come to dust."

"He's just a story I made up," John spat. "It _can't_-"

"_Excuse_ me!" the Doctor waved.

The room fell silent as each of its occupants stared at the Doctor's image with their own individual version of _horror_.

"What's all this commotion?" He clicked his tongue. "A _hologram_ trying to speak here!" He waited a moment, daring the silence to crack. When it didn't, he nodded. "Good, thank you. Now, _listen_, Rose. My _thick_ human presence, along with _other_ thick human presence-s-s…" he frowned in confusion. "Never mind. Hard to work around that one. _Anyway_, folks were detected here for more than ten minutes, which is… not good, I reckon."

Rose rolled her eyes, "It was just fine 'till _you_ showed up."

The Doctor shook his head patronizingly. "Now, Rose, that's rude. I have no idea what you just said, but I imagine it was _rude_."

"I can do _much_ worse," she muttered.

John shifted his gaze from his beloved and the… _image_. "What… is that?" he motioned their ongoing conversation with an incomprehensible wave. "How are you doing this? He looks just like _me_! How are you _talking_ to it?"

She sighed, "It's not exactly talking, it's a… hologram thing. He just guesses what 'm going to say."

"Oi! _Interrupting_!" the Doctor called.

John froze, the next accusation stuck in his throat.

The Doctor nodded again. "I'd like to believe this is all _your_ fault, Rose Tyler…"

"Don't bank on it, mate," she snapped.

"… but I suppose my thick human self might have gone and done something… you know, _thick_," he admitted with a sigh. "Either way, I hope to _God_ you haven't lost the Watch, Rose." Her response was an annoyed eye-roll, which he ignored, and instead turned to look at her directly, startling both her and John. "You haven't, have you? Because now would be a good time to have my thick human self _open_ _it_."

He tapped his foot expectantly against… well, _nothing_.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Rose blinked, waiting for the rest.

John scratched behind his ear, the gun forgotten.

_Well?_ They both seemed to think.

"Well?" the Doctor asked, vocalizing the general atmosphere. "Watch? Open it? Sometime between _now_ and _right now_?" he nudged.

Rose's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. "That's _it_?" she hissed, utterly disbelieving. "_That_ was the message? _Open the watch_? That's you're advice? I could have gotten there myself, thank you."

The Doctor shrugged. He scratched behind his ear, just as John was still doing, which caused the latter to drop his hand in dismay. "Oh!" he flashed her a triumphant grin. "I almost forgot. If you say _foxy Doctor_ at any point while in the TARDIS, it'll release a sedative gas that would knock me out for about three days, and-"

The lights went out, causing the hologram to zap and disappear.

:-:

"So, everything all clear? _Crystal_ clear? Polished, super-clean _crystal_ clear?"

Rose rolled her eyes and fought a tempting urge to take the poor, overworked mallet and bang its rightful owner's head. _Repeatedly_. One more time, and she might kill him. "_Yes_, Doctor, I think I got it," she assured him. "_Do not_ _open The Watch_. Watch, not opening. Watch _closed_. Can we please move on?"

The Doctor frowned pensively and counted with his fingers, "Family, random time, human me, no memories, dangerous, hiding, low profile, aliases, responsibility…" He ran out of fingers and remained with both his palms wide open in front of his face. He pouted at them, being adorably stupid, as if they betrayed him for not having more fingers.

Sometimes Rose found herself thinking: The Oncoming Storm of _what_, exactly?

His eyes snapped to hers, seemingly realizing that she was _thisclose_ to openly mocking him. "I think we just about covered everything… Unless, I don't know, have I mentioned that you _mustn't open the watch_?"

She grinned despite herself, "Possibly, you did."

"What's left, then?" he asked, _genuinely_ interested.

Rose stared at him incredulously. "How about _why_ we're doing this?"

"_Because_, they're after us."

"Them and half the galaxy? In _various_ times and places? What's special 'bout this lot?"

He sighed, "It's different."

"Different how?" she pressed, inching closer.

"Different in a _distinctively_ different way," he quipped, almost cheerfully.

Oh, thanks. Really helpful, that was. Rose was utterly and completely confused. True, the Doctor liked to _run_, but only until he figured out something else. Running _per se_ was never really Plan A. Not even Daleks scared the Doctor into _really_ running, so this… What could be worst than the _Daleks_? She shuddered to imagine. "Can't we just… _stop_ them?" she asked, voice dropping to a near desperation.

The Doctor pursed his lips darkly, "Not this time."

Rose found that she was practically leaning on the Console for support. The finality in his voice shattered the last traces of her courage. "Why?"

The Doctor must have noticed her -frankly noticeable- distress, because he made a considerable effort to _lighten up_. "See, Rose, the thing is… you see… the thing…" his voice faded. It wasn't working. He turned from her, closed his eyes, took a deep alien breath, and opened them again. His eyes held a frightening glint of determination as he wheeled around and gripped her shoulders.

His demeanor was cold and, most of all, _haunted_, which was a word she hated associating with the Doctor, as it usually meant the Time War.

"You trust me, don't you?"

Rose smiled nervously, "Oh, this is never good."

He tightened his grip on her almost to the point of bruising. "Rose?_Please_," he nearly begged.

Her smile faded. "'Course I do."

He didn't let her go. Instead, he pulled her closer. It was hard to decide if he didn't realize how he was terrifying her, or if he was actually _counting_ on it. His voice was the sinister whisper of ghost stories. "Then continue trusting me when I tell you that despite what little chance there is we'll lose the fight against them, the consequences would be_colossally_ bad, and we absolutely, positively _cannot_ risk it."

For a moment, Rose felt a chill run through her, over and over again. But she was brave, and she'd been through worse, _undoubtedly_. She just needed to breath, and think.

Fear quickly gave way to blessed annoyance, which was a considerable improvement. "Oh, _we_ can't, can we? Good thing _I_ didn't have to decide this _at all_."

The Doctor tilted his head, pleading.

Rose shifted, loosening herself from his grip as much as possible. "Fine, Doctor. Do whatever you like," she sighed.

"Rose…" he murmured, apologetic and hurried.

"Wh_at_?"

He ruffled his hair, a sheer sign of distress. "This is sort of goodbye. For the next three months, I won't… be here. I'll be_gone_, Rose. I'll cease to _exist_." He pouted, smiling sheepishly. "And without even a _teeny-_tiny goodbye hug?"

Oh, that was _low._

Turning to the pout, and the hair, and the big, begging eyes- that was just _low_.

Rose narrowed her eyes, and continued scowling even as her arms _somehow_ came to be wrapped around his neck while he nuzzled her hair happily, practically crushing her waist with his embrace.

He won.

The _Bastard_.

:-:

The console was lit by a green emergency light which Rose absolutely _hated_.

John's face was devoid of all color. "This can't be happening…"

Rose swallowed hard, "Oh, Mr. Smith-"

He aimed the gun at her, _dangerously_. For the first time, it seemed like he might actually shoot, intentionally or otherwise. "Don't _even_ open your mouth. Don't you _dare_."

She tried to edge closer anyway, "No, but, really, see…"

"_No_!" he roared. "No, no, no. You-you-you _despicable_, conniving woman! Get back!"

Rose –along with Tim- startled back in bewilderment.

John continued to flail the gun madly, seemingly forgetting about its existence. "_Impossible_," he spat at no one in particular. "The _nerve_…"

Rose rolled her eyes, once again choosing irritation over terror, which was becoming a worrisome habit. "Would you _stop_ waving that gun around and let me explain? _Please_?"

"Oh, what would it be this time?" he sneered, rolling his eyes. "My mind created an illusion of _myself_?" He slapped his forehead, "_Perfect_! My mind created my own image… because I was the closest, was I not? Otherwise, it would have taken _your_ form, I imagine."

Rose staggered, momentarily impressed with this imaginative idea. Had she not lied at least _fifty_ times already, that would have been an excellent jiggery-pokery explanation. Though, she imagined sadly, it was probably too late to congratulate him with a believable _Exactly! Well done!_ "Well, no," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean it means what you think it means."

"What I _think_ it means?" he hissed. "I don't think _anything_!"

Tim also looked quite annoyed at his savior's idiocy. "Look, Mr. Smith, you're the Doctor, I've said so all along. Would you just…_accept_ it?"

John whirled, pointing the gun at the boy's head with renewed vigor. "You shut your mouth, Tim! Not another _word_from you! From _either_ of you!"

"Alright!" Rose called, raising her hands in surrender. "Get the gun away from him! What's _wrong_ with you? He's just a kid. You're the Doctor, okay? Tim was right. There, that's the truth. You? Are _The Doctor_."

John huffed indignantly, "I most certainly am _not_, I assure you."

Rose frowned, "No, but you are."

"_Quiet_!" He snapped. "I'm sick of this! This ends _now. "_And before she had the chance to respond, he turned on his heels and fled from the TARDIS.

Rose blinked, staring at the space he used to occupy. Surely this was all a dream. There was _no way_ this was getting any worse than it already was. She stuttered, "No, but- _what_? What?" She turned to Tim, whose widened eyes gaped right back at her, before lunging to the door and breaking into a mad sprint.

"Mr. Smith!" she called desperately. "_Wait_!"

:-:

Tim's gaze followed her as she left him completely alone in a _spaceship_. His legs trembled, and suddenly the walls seemed considerably closer.

He might have been top-of-the-class material, but this was nevertheless overwhelming. He was frightened, confused, and most all, blindly and stupidly curious, as children his age tended to be.

He was all alone, in a _spaceship_.

He strolled around the console, touching anything that looked safe enough to touch. The pearly walls, the metal floor, the odd, wheeled chair, the doors leading to corridors which were long enough to make him queasy. They looked like they went on forever, and he wasn't keen on finding out if they really did. _Yet_.

"_Open the watch_," said a voice that could only belong to one person, one _being_.

Tim recognized that voice from his nightmares, shouting and laughing and talking rapidly. Sometimes he whispered, and Tim knew, somehow, that he was addressing _him_. Not the maid, nor the countless faces he saw when she stroked his hair and exposed her life, but _him_-Tim Latimer, being addressed by a creature from _another world_. And not just any creature, a_warrior_.

_There_ was something to write home about.

Suddenly, his legs were taking him to the console itself- by their own accord, he'd have sworn.

He stood before it, overcome with awe. So beautiful and so regal. How could one _live_ with such power nearby? He remembered how the maid moved around it effortlessly. Could she not _see_? Could she not see how unworthy she was? How _lowly_? No creature deserved to be near such divinity, let alone have it inside her _head_.

Something pulled at him, a feeling in the back of his neck. He opened a seemingly random drawer without thinking.

_Time Lord_.

For a moment, he stared at the watch – _The_ Watch – and _swore_ he could read the writing. Everything was _so_ clear, and just for a moment, he _knew_. And then, with an eerie whirr from the ghastly machine, it was gone. He knew _nothing_. The letters turned to elegant carving on a probably expensive, but otherwise unremarkable, watch.

He cradled it carefully, amazed that a timeless entity could fit in his small, trembling hand, and opened it.

His mind was instantly filled with whispers. A swarm of angry bees that scratched at his sanity.

_Time Lord. Hidden. Danger. Time War. Time Lord. Gallifrey. Rassillion. Theta. Hutchinson, the time is_ _now._

Tim clasped it shut and stumbled back, gasping for air.

This was it! There he was. The alien that haunted him, the warrior. He was right there, inside a _watch_. He was trapped, by his own doing. Willingly sacrificed to save the universe. Tim fought an urge to fall to his knees.

:-:

_Did you feel that, Husband of Mine?_

_I did, Wife of Mine._

_It's the Doctor. The_real_Doctor._

_He's here._

:-:

To Rose, it seemed as if hours had passed. How could he have gotten such a head start? She could hear faint footsteps, followed by the sound of cracking branches and an occasional yelp. She was painfully aware of the fact that they were sharing this forest with The Family, which could trap them at any given moment.

Eventually, the footsteps stopped.

Rose's heart sank in her chest with concern, but she didn't hesitate before quietly running over to him. If the Family apprehended him… well, she'd just have to do something… _heroic_.

Luckily, he was alone, leaning against a tree for support. He had apparently worn himself out. "Doc-Mr. Smith, we have to…" she panted, leaning on her knees. "'s not safe here. _Please_, let's go back?"

John shook his head frantically. "Go away, Rose. No more."

Her eyes welled with frustrated tears. "No, but, you're not _safe_. What's the _matter_ with you? Are you _bent_? D'you wanna _die_?"

He exhaled desperately, "Go away, please."

"Mr. Smith, you have to trust me," she pleaded. "I'm telling the truth this time."

John sneered, "_This time_? How is _this time_ different than all those _other_ times?"

"It just is," she snapped, impatience getting the better of her.

He rolled his eyes angrily, and without waiting for an answer, started to make his way to where he _thought_ the school was, mumbling contemporary profanities which Rose couldn't quite make out.

She followed quickly, falling into step beside him. Thankfully, he made no move to either dodge _or_ shoot her. "Listen, what can I say?" she shrugged. "You saw it -uh, _you_. You were _talking_. I'll tell you the truth if you just _stop_."

Unlike her, John seemed to favor propriety over fear. He raised his chin, nostrils flaring, "I will _not_."

"But you _have to_!"

"No, thank you," he snipped. "I'm going back to the school. You can come with me, if you like, but only if you stop being _mentally_ _deranged_." He nodded condescendingly, seemingly pleased with his newfound control over the situation. "You are my maid, and I will not stand for _witchcraft_ under my charge. Nor _lunacy_, which I thought would go beyond saying, but apparently not."

Rose bit her lip, "Mr. Smith, have you gone completely_barmy_?"

"I have no idea what _barmy_ means, but put your mind at ease, I have turned into no such thing."

"God, you're rubbish as a human," she snarled, before shaking her head and grabbing his hand. "I'm sorry, we don't have time for this. We've got to get back to the TARDIS. _Now_."

John resisted her tugging, and instead, with force she didn't recognize, locked onto her hand and commenced dragging her to where he still _thought_ the school would be. The most frightening part was the detached way in which he stared ahead, as if not realizing what he was doing. He never once looked at her, and his tone was suited for an idle conversation about the weather.

"I will also not tolerate _insolence_ from you, Miss Tyler," he continued calmly. "I know I have before, but needless to say, you have _abused_ it beyond reason."

Rose tried to slip away from his grip, "_What_ are you talking about, you prissy sod?"

He was most certainly _not_ listening. "When I was taught to be firm with the help, I assumed it was to prevent _stealing_ and the like, not _insanity_," he huffed. "I would have never imagined that allowing you to speak freely to me would lead you to create a _crime family_ and drag me into your… _questionable_ affairs. I will not make the same mistake twice."

Finally, she gave up and simply allowed herself to be led. Honestly, her exhausted, famished, practically dehydrated body would not stand for more struggling. "You _have_ gone completely daft."

John turned to her for the first time, holding up a scolding finger. "Rose Tyler, you have behaved… actually, there are no _words_ for the severity of your behavior."

"Complete _nutter_…" she murmured.

"If you are to continue working for me, there will be discipline, there will be _rules_ to follow. Do you understand?" he stared at her, as if anticipating a nod, but was met with steely dislike. It didn't seem to bother him, or even register in his brain. "This would, of course, apply to our _marriage_ as well."

"Our _what_?"

He looked down into her eyes and explained, as if she were completely thick, "Rose, you and I are _deeply_ in love. And _sane_ people who are in love get _married_."

"Get _what_?"

John rolled his eyes at her, as if she was being needlessly slow. He showed no traces of warmth, or any positive emotion, as he barked, "Working as a maid has obviously caused you _severe_ mental damage. As a gentleman, I cannot simply stand by and allow my beloved wife-to-be to fall ill, darling."

"Wife-to-_what_?"

Before John could answer, a felted arm filled with straw wrapped around his neck, inciting Rose to scream.

:-:

Always the cruel, cheap cliffhanger. I'm am thoroughly ashamed of myself. _**REVIEWS**_might make it better, or worse, depends on which one entices you to leave one. ::pouty smile:: Please?


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I would have started a new season _ages ago_. Goddamn you, Russell T. Davies. _Damnit_.

Good God, it's been ages. I missed this! I've read every one of you kind, awesome, _beautiful_ reviews and grumbled about having to work or study for the damn TOEFL. (How nice that writing fics for years, with varying degrees of quality, seemed to have worked magic on my English? Yay!). Not to mention, this chapter has been extra difficult to write, and I do hope all my point went across… somehow. And huge thanks to my intelligent, patient, and fascinating beta, Requialexa (of the land of LJ) and BluWine for pimping me out!

Anyway, I hope this chapter will be worth the long wait (I know from HP fics how waiting can be frustrating).

**Note: I just noticed this stupid thing this site does with the formatting of italicized words. What the hell is that? I got the last chapter fixed, if it was bothering anyone. God knows it bothered me…**

Enjoy!  
(And Review:-)

**:-:**

**Chapter 9**

**:-:**

Before John could answer, a felted arm filled with straw wrapped around his neck.

"John!" Rose screamed, scurrying through her many pockets in search of the sonic screwdriver.

Unfortunately, her scream drew the scarecrow's attention, and without a moment's hesitation, he tossed John aside as an afterthought and strode towards her. Rose backed away in horror, tripping over an inconveniently-placed branch. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could barely remember what she had been looking for.

In a flash of brown wool, John leaped to his feet, latching onto the scarecrow's neck. "Run, Rose!" he called. "They're after you! Run!"

_Like hell_.

She finally felt cool, comforting steel. "Get out of the way!" she cried.

"No!"

"_Now_!"

He jumped off the scarecrow's back instinctively, though what Rose planned on doing was beyond him. She pulled out the screwdriver, and –paying a lot less attention than she should have to the buttons and configurations- aimed at the scarecrow and pressed down hard.

The felted creature coked its head in wonder, before exploding into tiny pieces of hey. It might have been dazzling, had they not been fighting for their lives and on the brink of collapsing.

John looked at Rose oddly. "You called me by my name," he said.

She blinked at him as if he were mad, "What?"

"You called me John."

She frowned. "I did?"

He smiled, "You did."

She supposed she did. But Rose knew that now was not the time to dwell; it was time to run.

They ran.

:-:

John's lungs threatened to tear out of his chest, his legs threatened to crack under the pressure, any movement of any muscle threatened to be his undoing. His body urged him to put an end to all this _at once_.

Unless they stopped running soon, he was going to collapse into a sad, messy heap of exhaustion, and would be of no use to defend the school, much less care for his beloved– no matter how mad she seemed at the moment, or what shiny powerful toys she had in her possession.

"Rose, please, I beg of you…" he wheezed, his voice coming out in painful gasps. "Desist with this… incessant running."

"Shut up, _Mister Smith_," she spat, but nevertheless slowed her pace considerably, until they were walking awkwardly side-by-side. John still would have much preferred sitting down with a nice cup of tea in front of a crackling fire. "It's _your_ fault we have to run in the first place."

He huffed, "Well, I hardly see _how_."

She narrowed her eyes angrily. "You ran out of the TARDIS, you twerp."

John stared at her wearily, "What in God's name is a _twerp_?"

"It's…" she frowned. What the hell was a twerp, anyway? "It's… well, it certainly isn't _good_," she snapped.

He raised an indignant eyebrow. "Yes, I figured as much, thank you."

Rose rolled her eyes, deciding to ignore him from here on and possibly forever. His childish denial was really getting on her nerves. Instead, she looked around, noting the trees and bushes around them looked _exactly_ the same as the ones they passed minutes or hours or days ago. "Where the bloody hell are we?" she wondered aloud.

John sighed, "Honestly, this kind of language…"

Rose halted suddenly, glaring at him with pure, unadulterated – and frankly, quite frightening - _fury_.

"Shut up! Just stop talking right now! And I mean that!" He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him, "Unless you remember where the TARDIS is, not another word from you. I'm sick of you, Mister Smith."

Her scolding fell on the deaf ears of a man who was accustomed to scolding children on a daily basis. He raised his chin in defiance, "Are you, now? Interesting. I wonder, do you address this… _imaginary_ Doctor of yours with such insolence?"

"Well, since 'that Doctor of mine' is _you_, I would have to say _yes_," she answered, mocking his pompous tone.

John nodded pleasantly. "I see. Are our personalities so similar?"

His patronizing was bound to earn him a heartfelt Tyler slap. "No. You are annoying in an _entirely_ different way from him," she answered, seething.

John went to scratch behind his ear, but remembering the Doctor's similar mannerism, went for his chin instead. "This is troubling, indeed."

She rolled her eyes, "_Indeed_."

It just dawned on his that his beloved Rose might actually be beyond saving. He might have to send her to one of those… _institutions_. He might have to let her go. His stomach gave a painful twist at the thought.

"Your mental condition is far worse than I imagined," he suddenly murmured, nearly retching.

"Oh, don't start that again," she huffed impatiently.

John stared at her, pondering, '_But otherwise she seems so lucid._' Maybe there was hope!

He halted abruptly, taking hold of her hand. "Please, my darling," he begged, his tone devoid of all its earlier bite, now morphed into a desperate lover's plea. "I _urge_ you to see reason."

"I _am_ seeing reason!" she cried, her eyes boring coldly into his, studying him. Her face held no barriers; he could see every trace of disappointment, of contempt. He almost felt as if he were betraying her by not buying into her sickening fairytale.

"Please, Rose, it's not too late. Be reasonable. You can't possibly believe-"

She kissed him then, deeply, passionately. For just a moment he forgot her madness, forgot they were running for their lives. And then she slapped him furiously, the sound rippling through the forest. "There," she said, panting. "I think that's pretty_reasonable_."

John clutched at his reddened cheek, his lips swollen and pounding. He wasn't sure which line of reasoning was more bewildering. If she wanted to shock him into oblivion, she certainly succeeded. "Why I never…"

"Save it, Johnny," Rose snapped, holding out a hand to stop him. "You don't wanna believe me? Well, _fine_. Do what you like, I don't even care anymore. We'll just go back to the TARDIS, free the Doctor, and get the hell out of here."

John examined her face, looking hopefully for any signs that her mental health could be salvaged. He found none. "Truly, this is peculiar…"

Rose dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I don't know why I even bothered. You're not even _real_. You don't _exist_."

John heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. _Another_ deterioration? Now she was questioning his own _existence_? "Pardon me?"

She turned to him sharply, completely fed up. She knew she was being too harsh, but _God_, would it ever end? She was _so_ tired and they weren't even halfway through with this. "Right. Listen carefully now, alright? You? Are made up. Do you understand me, Mr. Smith? Remember that Blue Box? She imagined you. You're not even a shadow, you're just… _nothing_."

Her words stung more than he cared to admit. "Rose, there is no call for this. I know you are upset, but…"

"Shut up!" she shouted. "Didn't you just hear me? You are _nothing_. You're just baby-sitting the Doctor's body. You're like a coat rack. And bugger if I'm gonna listen to a _coat rack_. It's bad enough I've been taking orders from one, for _months_." She took a deep, final breath. "This ends right now."

"Talking to inanimate objects now, are you?" he spat vehemently, trying to ease the pounding in his ears. "You insufferable, _vulgar_, deranged woman."

Rose's blood rushed to her head, working hard to create the physical traits of fury that her mind demanded. She needed to breath, punch him, cry, leave, _run_- and all those took more blood than her exhausted body could offer.

She opened her mouth to answer, but her knees gave in and she tumbled.

John caught her out of instinct, though his body protested piteously to the extra weight. "Rose?" he nudged her, very aware of her labored breathing. "Rose!" he called, more profusely, shaking her a bit.

Nothing.

He crashed to his knees, supporting her gently. "Rose… _please_, say something."

Her eyelids fluttered. She looked at him for a long time, focusing gradually on his eyes, and murmured, _"Doctor?_"

John winced noticeably. "Ah, yes. It's me. The, uh, _Doctor_. What's wrong?"

She clung to him, and he tightened his grip around her. "I'm dizzy," she whispered. "What took you so long? It's been _ages_." She counted her fingers absently. "You said five and a half _hours_, not _weeks_. Doctor, you promised."

John felt her forehead, doing his best to ignore whatever madness she was spewing out this time. It wasn't real, and she was ill – he had to remember that. "Darling, you're burning up!" he suddenly noticed. A smile spread across his features. "That explains_everything_! The fever's made you delusional!" He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. "Oh, my Rose, thank _God_."

She pulled away from him, as if remembering who he was. "I'm not _delusional_, you freak," she snapped. "I'm just dehydrated, and how does a fever explain _living_ scarecrows and a box that's bigger on the inside to ya?"

She made a move to release herself, but her knees buckled again. He caught her effortlessly, every muscle in his body rejoiced with a jolt of force. He was so relieved, he didn't care. It was over and explained.

"Doctor," she whispered against his chest. "I wanna go 'ome. Can we? I wanna… wanna see mum." Her body finally caved completely. "She's been calling, you know. She… she calls." John carefully gathered her in his arms, as if she were the frailest china doll in all of creation. He was the picture of the perfect gentleman, but it hurt that it wasn't _him_ she was seeing.

"Hush now," he whispered. "I'll take you somewhere safe."

:-:

Rose woke up with a start. "The Judoon!" she gasped.

John nearly dropped the glass of water he had prepared. He looked around, alarmed, "Where? Where? Wait, _what_?"

She clutched at her head, her eyes foggy. "I don't know, space rhinos."

Space rhinos. Well, _naturally_. "How are you feeling?"

Rose stared at him harshly. Her face was drained of color, eyes hollow, and God, she looked so _exhausted_. "Which one are you?" she spat.

The contempt in her voice made him want to shrivel into the floor and disappear. "John Smith," he croaked.

Her face fell, just for a second but he caught it.

"Well, I'm sorry," he murmured bitterly.

"No, I'm sorry," she softened, hand grazing his shoulder with hesitation.

He handed her the glass, and watched as her eyes widened almost indecently. How long has it been? He couldn't remember if she had anything to drink at the dance.

Good Lord, the dance. Such blurry flashes of colors and twirls. If it wasn't for Rose's dress, now ripped and muddy at the bottom, he would have stamped it as another one of his elaborated fantasies which got him into this world of trouble. If he had that damned diary in his hand, he would have burnt it to bits and maybe the crackling sketches would snap Rose back to sanity.

She finished the water and examined their surroundings as he rushed to get her another glass. "Where are we?" she wondered.

"Lucy's family lived here, I believe," he answered, not looking at her.

_Oh, Rose, they're all dead_, a deep, tortured voice cut into his consciousness.

He almost dropped the glass, his stomach contorting in alarm. What was that? What _was_ that?

"I thought we were lost," Rose mused, cutting off his reverie. "Where'd this place come from?"

John shrugged, "No forest is complete without an abandoned cabin. Tea?"

She blinked. "_Tea_?"

"Excellent against fever," he explained casually. "And bound to be found _somewhere_ around here. We are in England, after all."

Rose narrowed her eyes. "You're more of a nutter than the Doctor, you know? And that's not easy to achieve."

John scoffed with annoyance. "Well, it is often said that _reality_ surpasses fiction."

"Ugh, don't start that again," she said, and not too kindly. "If you hadn't run out like a little girl, you'da _seen_… I have so many photos of so many places, and the TARDIS… well, you can't close your eyes to it. All you 'ad to do was just _stay_."

He slammed the kettle down, a little too forcefully than he would have liked, and winced when Rose was startled into silence. This was not how he liked to conduct things. He handed her a steaming cup almost apologetically, and cradled his own, choosing his words carefully.

"Rose," he started and trailed off, unsure. "Alright, you're right," he started again. "Too many things have happened, things beyond the realm of possibility. It would be mindless to ignore it." He chose not to comment on her triumphant stare. "I suppose, if aliens could take the form of Mr. Clark…" He took hold of her shoulders, willing her to listen carefully.

"You suppose… what?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and said slowly, "I suppose… an alien can take my form as well." She made a move to protest but he stopped. "No, Rose, listen. It wasn't me. Do you understand? That _Doctor_, whoever he was, was _not_ me. I am John Smith; I was born in a village not far from here, where I lived for most of my life, until I moved to London, and then here. Do you remember? I told you this."

With every word he said, Rose looked more devastated. It broke his heart, but he had to make her _see_.

"I am human," he continued. "We've met – truly met – just a few weeks ago, in the school where we are both employed. I have never been to outer space, nor the future _or_ the past. Do you understand me, Rose?"

_It's not that he's not you_, she thought, seizing him carefully – the fatigue and straight hair and strain. _It's just that you're not him._ Which sounded ridiculous in her head, but she couldn't help it. She knew he was the Doctor, but with every passing minute, she saw less of him in this plain human man.

The Doctor was slipping from her fingers and leaving behind… _John Smith._

And this _John Smith_, he was a nice bloke. And if she didn't know a better world, she wouldn't have minded… staying. For a while, maybe. Not… indefinitely, _no_. Definitely not. But maybe just a little. Maybe they could have taken him on, as another Companion. The Doctor would be jealous but he would have liked him eventually, she was sure.

Rose almost slapped herself. What was she _thinking_?

John cupped her cheeks. "Rose?" he nudged her gently. "Rose, are you listening?"

"Yes," she choked.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked carefully.

She took a deep breath, looked at him closely, examined every inch of his face, his plain brown eyes, his neatly combed hair. "Mr. Smith. John Smith." And then she broke down in tears.

"Oh, Rose…" he took her in his arms and stroked her hair in long, soothing motions. "Please don't cry. It's alright now, we're safe." She cried harder, as if protesting. Maybe even accusing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not who you want me to be. Rose, I'm so sorry."

Hearing _those_ words obviously made it worse. She cried harder, her sobs painful and choked. John held her desperately, unsure of what he did wrong, and she clung to him for dear life.

A while later, it was uncertain how much time passed, she pulled back carefully. He looked hopeful and confused and terrified. Slowly, she ran a tentative hand through his hair, mussing it. He didn't move, barely breathed. She narrowed her eyes and thought,_his hair is ruffled and he wears a brown suit, so what's the difference_?

But there was a difference.

He was this man who was sort of her boyfriend and apparently her _fiancée_. John Smith.

And then she did the Unthinkable.

She kissed John Smith.

:-:

Tim was being chased by a rabid family made of pure evil. He'd been so desperate, he had even tried going back to that deathly terrifying Blue Box, only to find it locked. He pounded on the door, screeched for help, but there was nothing.

If anything, the ruckus might have hinted the Family of his whereabouts.

He ran until he couldn't run anymore, and crashed on the ground.

"What do I do?" he asked the Watch. "What do I do? What do I do?"

_Beware_.

"Beware of what?" his voice did not waver anymore.

_Her_.

He saw the red balloon before he saw her. She _sniffed_.

He hid the Watch behind him and commanded, "Keep away."

"Who are you?" she demanded, like the spoiled brat she was.

"I saw you at the dance. You were with that _Family_, you're one of _them_," he had started coolly but the front didn't hold.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing."

"What have you got there?"

"_Nothing_."

"Show me, little boy."

He straightened. He was taught how to deal with spoiled brats, aliens or no. "I reckon whatever you are, you're still in the shape of a girl. How strong is she, do you think? Does she really want to see _this_?" he opened the Watch and aimed it straight at her, showing her what he hadn't the courage to see.

_Fire and rain_.

The little girl spun around and fled.

:-:

"_Time Lord_!" the Son gasped.

"It's at the device," the Mother agreed.

"He is concealed away in the hand of a _schoolboy_," the Son smirked. "But now we know it's all we need, to find the boy, the Watch. What are we waiting for? _Attack_!" he yelled, and the scarecrows sprang into action.

:-:

_Time Lord_.

John gripped Rose's waist and sucked in a breath, accidentally biting her lower lip. She moaned and forcefully deepened the kiss, oblivious to his turmoil. It was doubtful if she knew who he was or even realized what she was doing.

_How long are you gonna stay with me?_

Images flashed before his eyes. Stars and creatures, Rose and the universe. Memories that weren't his, memories he didn't want. He pulled Rose closer to him and wrapped his arms around her, longing for proximity.

_Her eyes flashed gold and she was dying_.

Her breasts were pressed against his chest and he felt something feral and foreign but not really. He was not exactly John Smith, but she was not exactly anything he'd ever thought she was. This Doctor was invading him, piece by piece. His memories, his happy childhood, were slipping from him.

"_Know her? She's my-"_

He didn't know who he was, he couldn't locate his inhibitions. He lowered his lips to her neck and raised a tentative hand to cup one of her breasts. She sighed into his ear, causing him to shiver. He felt as if he'd been on the verge of wanting this for _solong_.

_She grasped at the lever but she was slipping._

_Her eyes were wide and terrified and gnawed at him. He felt hell itself pull at him and didn't even want to imagine. He found himself considering turning the whole thing off. He'd find a way to deal with the Daleks. Another way, any other way. A Cyberman wheezed by her, shaking her balance. Her hand slipped further._

His jacket had been removed, he wasn't sure when or how. They were both breathing heavily into each other's mouth. _Lost_. His hand traveled down her back, lowering the zip of her dress in the process. The Doctor was finally fading away, but he could no longer deny it. For a few moments, he had been invaded by an alien presence.

Nothing made sense, and he was tired of making it seem like it did.

His hand slid under Rose's dress, traveling up her leg. Higher and higher. Her skin was soft and slick and inviting. The zipper was almost undone. If there was an opportunity to turn back, he had missed it weeks ago. Rose gripped a handful of his hair, seemingly without realizing, and moaned deeply. "Who are you?" she breathed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I may be either."

She crashed her lips against his.

_How long are you gonna stay with me?_

_Forever_.

John Smith succumbed.

:-:

**Can anyone say nau-ghty? For those who noticed the rating jumped up a bit, now you see why. Still not as****smutty as some of you might like, but nevertheless, I hope it was…**_**enjoyable**_

**I'd love to know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**Not. Mine. Were it mine, the show would feature Rose, Ten, the cute alterna!Ten, and Nine. I miss Nine. As it were, it is not. Aw.

SORRY!

Should I even bother trying to defend myself or just bow my head and accept the spitting and cursing? Or in other words: oh my God, am I sorry for not updating sooner. So sorry I can't even think up an adequate apology. Don't you just hate it when fics are_never updated_? And I mean 'never' in the sense where there's another _year_in the "last updated" thing. I know I do! I hope I haven't lost you guys yet. This chapter has been tweaked _ad infinitum_ (I looked that one up) but that's no excuse – still, I hope it's to your liking, and please let me know. Not less important: thank you so much for reviewing the last chapter! I mean, whoa, I love you guys!

Also, since I don't have a beta at the moment, I beg and encourage you to point out any mistakes in spelling, grammar, plot, continuity, etc. Also if you maybe wanna be my beta? Instant-yet-eternal gratitude. As you see, it's not a very demanding job. Although I promise to _never do that again!_

_**Update: Thanks to Anna McNarin for pointing out a silly mistake on my part. Fixed! Will definitely be looking for a beta once I get settled in the new semester.**_

**:-:**

**Chapter 10**

**:-:**

A day which begins with the thought "_oh, no_" can't possibly turn out to be even _remotely_ good. And those were the first words on Rose's mind as it slowly returned to its fully-(The Doctor would snigger)-functioning mode.

It took Rose mere moments to realize why she woke up with the feeling of being an absolute, incorrigible _idiot_. _Idiot_ like her first Doctor yelling the word at Mickey with the substantial power of Emasculating Northern Accent, that much of an idiot. There was no reason for her to feel this way, on the surface, because she was warm and quite comfortable, albeit a bit tired. And yet.

She opened her eyes slowly to take in her surroundings and gasped when she did.

She was covered by a suspiciously ratty duvet, and next to her, _on the floor_ no less, laid none other than her employer-turned-fiancée, alien-turned-human, Mr. bloody _John Smith_.

They were both inescapably naked.

Yes, it was all coming back to her now.

At least it was still dark outside and a quick glance at her watch (her modern wristwatch she always forgot to remove) showed that only a couple of hours passed since John ran away from the TARDIS. Only a couple hours passed since…

She could feel her cheeks heating. She couldn't even _think_ the words.

Rose covered her face with her hands and groaned as quietly as possible.

Of all the stupid things she could have done in this life or the next or all of them combined, she went and – you know! - with the Doctor. _The Doctor_! The nine hundred years old, last of the Time Lords, that one! Of all the people and life forms in the _universe_, past _or_ future _or_ present, from Elvis to the Face of Boe, she had to choose the Doctor! No, worse – the Doctor's alias! His weaker side which he entrusted in her hands to protect and shelter.

Oh_,_Rose.

There would be no living with him after this. Just the embarrassment, the mortification… he had kissed her, _touched_ her in the most intimate of ways, the most intimate of places. He had showered his adoration without shame or restraint. The Doctor had always been so squeamish about these human… _contacts_. The more domestic, the more hedonistic, the more he shied away from it. And now she…

Would she ever be able to look him in the eye?

But it wasn't like she _forced_ him or anything, she thought defensively a moment later. There had been no forcing, indeed. If anything, it was _his_ fault – he was the one who _proposed_ to her! Had he just kept to a normal, sexual-harassment free employer-employee relationship like any sensible person would, none of this would have happened.

And he had been so tender.

She glanced at him, breathing calmly next to her, oblivious to the world. His lips were slightly parted in wonder, no doubt uncovering yet another chapter of the Doctor's life.

Despite the inconvenience of the situation, Rose felt a smile rise from deep within her belly for the endearingly daft John Smith. He didn't deserve his lot in life.

He had been tender and sweet. He had sworn his love in words and beyond. For a moment frozen in time, they were a young couple, deeply in love and deeply in danger. The whole affair was tinged with _just_ the right amount of tragedy and impending doom to make her forget the rest. Their adrenaline levels were heightened to frightening proportions. _John Smith_ thought she was demented while she thought they were doomed. It felt like the last night on earth as they held each other for dear life.

His single heart pounded in his chest and she felt it against hers. John Smith's, not the Doctor's. They were so different all of a sudden.

She used to dream of nights like this one when she was younger. Romance novels and movies turned into yearning dreams of something different than her mother's flings, than her own boring and expected relationship with the boy next door she knew since she was a baby.

It might have been those very dreams that caused her to be swept away with the Doctor so easily in the first place. She dreamt of more. She wanted to see the universe, wanted to feel something beyond bored, unaccomplished, okay at best and stuck at worst. She knew that somewhere, something better was waiting just for her.

So she climbed into that Blue Box and succumbed to its wonders.

Fat lot of good that did.

How was she gonna get out of this mess?

Next to her, as if reacting to her distress, John Smith started to tremble.

:-:

"_Rose! Hold on!"_

_She wasn't holding on wasn't holding on wasn't holding on._

_Wasn't. Holding. On._

_She was slipping further and what was he supposed to do? He was the Doctor; he was supposed to have all the solutions to all the problems. When people were in trouble, he_helped_them. When Rose was stuck inside a TV, he_helped_. When she was stuck in a room and the sun was closing in on her, he_helped_. Trying to keep his jeopardy-friendly companion safe had become second nature, even as she proved herself quite capable time and time again. But what could he do now?_

_Everything was chaos, everything around them. Daleks and Cybermen, childish saltshakers and tin men chopping wood, wailing and screaming. Slipping away from reality. When creatures like them were scared, it was time to run._

_And Rose, slipping away with them. She was so much better, and yet, he was going to lose her. Unless he figured out a brilliantly Doctor-ish, allons-y trick to save the day._

'Turn it off'_, that human voice inside him said – the one which was selfish and irrational and didn't give a twig about what would happen._Turn it off, save her, sod the Universe, _it urged, temptingly._

_Help me. Help her._

_What has the Universe ever done for him, anyway? Would he be forever forced to sacrifice everything he cared about for it? He shouldn't have to. He was tired of it._

_A Cyberman blasted past her and she slipped further._

_This was it this was it this was it this was it. Please, no. No, no, no. Not her. Not her, please._

TURN IT OFF!

_He couldn't. It would destroy the world,_both_worlds. She would die either way but she would take the rest of the world with her in her wake. She would never forgive him if she survived. But she would die either way._

_She slipped._

_The power of the Void sent her flying backwards, her hands stretched forward, trying to grasp at nothing. Time seemed to slow, tantalizing, as if to make sure he wouldn't miss a second of it, to make sure he would dream of it with perfect clarity._

_She screamed; he screamed louder._

_No._

_And then it was all over and her back hit the wall forcefully. He heard something crack and she yelped but he couldn't believe it. It was probably wishful thinking and he was going mad because there was_no way_the Void decided to close_just_as she reached it. Not when it had one last victim to collect. These things didn't happen in real life. Such a happy, coincidental ending was just unfathomable. Adventures, always; miracles, rarely._

_Rose looked just as shocked._

"_Oh my God," she breathed, her voice hoarse and foreign in his ears._

_The Doctor disentangled himself from the basically giant paper weight he had been grasping for dear life. Was this really happening? Was he walking towards her, his Rose that was being pulled away into Hell just seconds ago, with nothing standing between them? Were the Daleks gone? The Cybermen? Had they won? Was it over?_

"_Rose?" he asked weakly._

_She looked at him, her eyes giant with wonder. "Doctor?" she answered, just as weakly._

_Another moment wheezed by them as they stared blankly at each other._

_And then the Doctor whooped. A full-on, Time-Lord, too-much-time-in-the-sun-really-should-seek-counseling deafening whoop. Seemed like this was real, he might as well enjoy it. "We did it!" he hooted, bouncing over to Rose. "We did it!" he said again, disbelieving his own frantic declaration, like a baby hearing its own voice for the first time. Rose still looked a little uncertain so he picked her up in his arms and spun her around._

_Which was silly, as it didn't exactly help her orient herself. "But…" she murmured, staring at the Great Big Wall behind them. "But… no?"_

_No, what? Oh, who cares? He whirled her around again, wild and excited. He was so happy that he could have built a new galaxy with the sheer force of his glee. He would take her to Barcelona and Copa Cabana and wherever the hell the TARDIS saw fit to send them, he didn't care. He had won and his Companion had survived, both instances miraculous and against all odds._

_Poor Rose, she was still not getting it. He imagined that once humans start seeing their life pass before their eyes, it's a little hard to just stop the tape. Silly creatures. How he loved them._

_He lowered her gently and cupped her cheeks. "Rose?" he asked, very slowly._

_Rose looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. No sound came out._

"… _Hello?" he tried tentatively._

_Finally, there was a sign of recognition. "… Hello?" she whispered back._

_The Doctor nodded, stroking her hair softly, lulling her back to reality. "Yes, hello."_

"_I slipped," she suddenly said, confused and apologetic. "I'm sorry?"_

_The Doctor laughed, trying to keep his cackling as maniac-free as possible so as not to frighten her. "Quite alright. It was very heroic! Silly humans, always jumping into the fray. Funny word, fray. Fray. Fried eggs. No, that's not the same." he mused. "Thought, so do I, I supposed… jump, that is." Realizing he was once again overwhelming her with unnecessary conversation, he shrugged and grinned, "You're alright, by the way!"_

"_I am?"_

"_Afraid so."_

_Her lips formed a hesitant smile. "Really?"_

_The Doctor's smile was big enough for the both of them. He was in danger of actualizing that hyperbole about smiling from ear to ear. "As real as the Slitheen are smelly!" he chirped and then frowned. Well, that was neither witty nor especially kind to the Slitheen, was it? Never mind, moving on. He'd had a hard day today and he was allowed to be a bit daft._

_Rose's eyes brightened gradually as she grasped the situation. And then, without warning, in true Rose Tyler style, she let out something between a choked sob and roaring laughter. The Doctor could relate. Either way, the last piece of the puzzle – the fact that they won – finally fell into place and she started laughing in earnest, tears running down her cheeks._

_The Doctor had half a mind to say something insulting about the nature of human's physical reactions, because he was the Doctor and it was his job. But his throat closed in protest and he couldn't, wouldn't break the moment for anything. Instead, he joined her overjoyed laughter and wrapped his arms around her again. He couldn't seem to let go for too long, afraid she'll slip away. They held each other tightly enough to steal their breaths away; they were both dizzy and lightheaded but the laughter never stopped._

:-:

John stirred.

He was feeling dizzy, almost seasick, but he was laughing.

He was not himself anymore. He was having one of those _dreams_ that used to be nothing but idle fantasies. What were they now? Was it always this… alien, the way he felt? He felt as if three tons of information were trying to fit into his tiny human brain. The gentle waves of time he was in no condition to comprehend, trying to jam their way inside. It had never been like this before. His dreams used to be abstract.

Not like this. More than a dream, this felt like a memory.

Rose was _there_, in his arms. But she was also _here_, in the real world that he could feel just barely though the barriers of sleep. She was on the cold floor, in his arms. She was the only link between this world and _that_ one.

They were laughing, hugging with intimacy that took years to build, so different from how they were now.

He didn't like it anymore. It was too alien. He wanted to wake up.

His eyes snapped open.

Rose startled in alarm at the sudden movement. "Mr. Smith?"

He couldn't help thinking, _Back to that, then_?

His eyes focused on hers. He was surprisingly alert.

"Is that who I am now?" he asked quietly.

She bit her lip helplessly. "I guess. I don't know. Are you?"

"I think so," he said, glancing down at himself. He seemed human enough, at least. Then again, the rude (definitely not ginger) clone that spoke to them in the box had looked human enough as well. In fact, it had looked exactly like him.

"Look, Mr. Smith…" Rose started, her cheeks reddening as she clutched the blanket tightly around herself.

"Call me John," he almost pleaded, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing a lot less fabric than he usually did around members of the female persuasion. Well. Awkward. He cleared his throat. "Surely we've progressed to given names, after…"

"About that-"

"Rose, I-"

She held up a hand, looking quite mortified. "No, really, it's alright. Whatever…" she made a vague gesture with her hand, "_happened_, we can deal with… _after_." She straightened, making sure to cover herself properly. Maybe if she were to imagine that they were merely discussing the situation over tea, they would be. She was being ridiculous, anyway. This wasn't her first time, for her to act like it was the end of the world. "We, uh… Tim! We left Tim, in the TARDIS, alone, with the watch? That's not good; that's very bad."

_Very fluent, Rose_.

John almost groaned. Not the nonsense about the _TARDIS_ again. He could positively swear in court that he was sick of the whole thing. "Look," he said as calmly as he could. "Could you… if you were to explain to me what _exactly_ is going on, right now, without lying or spinning the truth, or however you prefer calling it, then I… would consider, perhaps… believing you? I must stress the part about the _perhaps_."

"That's fair," Rose admitted. At least he wasn't talking about what had transpired between them. "But can we do it while on the way?"

John was feeling brave enough to give it a try. "Right. We were being chased by… The Family?"

Her face broke into a dazzling smile that was almost worth indulging in the mess she had orchestrated. Despite all that has happened, he was suddenly struck by how strongly he was in love with this madwoman. He truly wanted to marry her, still. In fact, more and more as every minute went by. It was madness.

"Yes!" she almost squealed. "Exactly! Because of The Family. The very real, very _dangerous_ Family of _Blood_ we should 'ave been dealing with, instead of…" she cleared her throat, unable to believe her own stupidity. They had finally moved on from the subject - why was she bringing it up again? Stupid Rose. "Doesn't matter. We need to find the TARDIS, and Tim, and the watch, and _now_."

Was this why the Doctor was always nattering incoherently? Because he was so _anxious_? Rose felt on the verge of tearing out her own hair. Her hands fidgeted violently as she stumbled with her stupid dress but she was still ready to go within seconds. John's movements, on the other hand, were slow and hesitant. It was quite maddening.

"Mr. Smith, I don't mean-"

"John, Rose," he interrupted. "It's _John._"

"Yeah, 'course. Anyway, _John,_" the name sounded foreign on her tongue but this was hardly the time to be petty."I don't mean to be rude, but could you get a move on?"

"Yes, of course," he answered instinctively but his brow wrinkled in a frown a moment later. "No, wait. What? A move on what? What's a _move_?"

Rose resisted the urge to scream and instead amended calmly: "I mean, would you mind hurrying it up a bit? _Please_?"

The last part was more a squeak than a plea, but it got the job done just as well. John quickly pulled his clothes on, blushing all the way through it even as she swiftly turned away and stood stiffly with her eyes shut tight, quite crimson herself.

Well, he thought a bit bitterly, if they had been _married_ like he suggested, this unbearable awkwardness might have been prevented. Rather, he imagined a warm breakfast, many kisses and cancelling work for the day, or the month, because he simply couldn't get enough of her. And to think, yesterday _John Smith_ was still a bookish bloke with no notable attributes that were especially attractive to women, but today… he felt on top of the world! He felt confident and powerful, but at the same time light as a blissful feather, especially when his mind wandered back to…

Well. He had to keep himself from thinking too much about last night if he wanted to focus on the more… pressing matters at hand. It would do no good to start mooning over the pleasures of the flesh that could be achieved with the lovely lady of one's dreams. Literally.

Rose cleared her throat again, as if chiding him for his thoughts. "Uh, Mr… John. Are you decent… yet?"

John realized he had been buttoning and unbuttoning the same button while his thoughts drifted. Cheeks burning, he quickly finished donning his poor, battered suit from the dance. It was dirty and horribly wrinkled but it would have to do. He couldn't wait to return to his quarters and change, though.

For the first time he wondered how the Family had entertained themselves during all this time. Alien or not, they were sadistic and insane.

He hoped everything was relatively alright. He hoped the world had stopped briefly to allow him and Rose those few hours of happiness.

And as he hoped this, a terrible bombing sound shook the foundations of the cabin.

"Oh my God," Rose murmured, turning around and forgetting her shyness. "Oh my God, what are they doin'?"

"What was that?" John asked, moving closer to her instinctively.

"They're trying to scare you out," Rose said, before adding: "I _hope_ that's what they're doin'. We 'ave to go now, back to the TARDIS, that's all I can think of."

Her accent got strange when she was nervous. It was adorable. Still, no time to dwell.

They ran, again.

John Smith was quickly becoming quite sick of _that_, too.

:-:

When they reached the barn that previously held the TARDIS, Rose froze in her tracks.

The blue box was gone, to be replaced by a brigade of those… scarecrow… things. They were clearly waiting for them. Wordlessly, Rose pulled him behind some bushes.

"Where's the, uh… magic carpet box?" John asked lamely. "Did it… fly away?"

Rose's eyes shot to his and she gasped with horror. Clearly, the thought never occurred to her. "No! It wouldn't, it would never," she shook her head. "Unless… no. No way. No."

"What?" he asked, rather impatiently – but who could blame him? "What is it, Rose? What's happening?"

"Tim," she said, so pale that she was almost glowing. The very definition of the word 'ghostly'. "He had the watch, and all that… psychic ability or whatever. Maybe he… tried to fly it?" she shook her head at her own idea. "No! It would be an absolute…_disaster_. You… I mean, the Doctor, can hardly manage to fly the TARDIS properly. _I_can barely power her up without blowing somethin'. Imagine… he's just a kid! 'sides, they wouldn't be here," she indicated the scarecrows. The matter of whether the possibility that the Family stole the TARDIS was a better alternative remained unclear.

Another bombing pierced the sky.

"It's in the direction of the school," John murmured, tabling Rose's confusing ramblings for the time being. Really, he should just refrain from asking questions. It was doubtful that he'll like the answers. "They're mad. They'll hurt the children. Rose, we have to help them!"

Rose looked utterly lost, with those big brown eyes of hers focused on seemingly nothing, but another bombing snapped her to her senses.

He grabbed her hand, forcing her to take a second to look at him. He felt he had to ask. "Will this ever be over? Is it ever _not_ like this?"

Rose's eyes bore into him. "Only if you run away and stop looking. The Doctor never does. Do _you_ want to?"

Lord, did he ever. But he didn't answer and she took it for what it was: resignation. He couldn't let those children get hurt if he could help it. They were cadets and he was their teacher. Their safety was his responsibility. He would never be able to look at himself in the mirror if he ignored his duty, and rightfully so.

He sighed, eyes dropping to her lips. Rose nodded as if she understood the urgency. He kissed her without preliminaries, none too gently, just to make sure at least she was real, that she hadn't been taken away. He had meant to be brief out of respect for the situation, but found himself reluctant to let go and return to the horrifying reality they were drowning in. Another second couldn't hurt, he told himself. Not when it was so wonderful.

Rose didn't pull away like she knew she should have. On the contrary, her arms came to encircle his neck, on their own volition, it seemed.

:-:

_They had no idea who was the instigator; they had been too ragged, too excited and dizzy for such a complicated cognitive analysis. And if even if they remembered later, they were happy to pretend they didn't and that it never even happened in the first place._

_It was silly, really._

_But when they pulled apart, just enough to breathe but not enough for anything else, they suffered from a surge of insanity and their lips met. It was just a few seconds, it was hardly romantic. It was the simplest of kisses, and yet, they didn't_do_that. They weren't like that. They had perfected hugging into an art form, but kissing was simply_not done_. The one time had been on the moon and it was obviously all business. Not to mention, the Doctor squirmed and made such a fuss even as she openly laughed at him for being embarrassed like a child._

_Still, this was different._

_This was… different._

_They broke apart, with Rose blushing to her toes and the inhuman Doctor merely furiously rubbing his ear as a clear sign of embarrassment. She could hide behind her pesky humanity; what was his excuse? Adrenaline? He was clearly trying to think one up._

_Rose, knowing him enough to know that this may turn into an orchestra of "err…"s and "sorry"s, simply shook her head as if to brush the whole thing off and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder as she often did, inhaling deeply. She could feel the grief over losing her entire family, the loneliness sure to come, looming in the back of her mind. She was alone now. The last of the Tylers. But she didn't want to think about that; didn't want to think, period._

_She was with her Doctor, and they were safe, for the extremely short time being. They lived another day._

_The Doctor hugged back, tightly, unwilling to let go, foolishly hoping that this was the last big battle, that from now on he could keep her safe and with him._

:-:

John Smith broke the kiss with a gasp, frightened at how his dreams have apparently become waking hallucinations, but even more frightened of what was to come. Rose let go of one of his hands but her grip on the other tightened in preparation.

"Rose," he said, stupidly, knowing she wouldn't like it. She didn't last time. "I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked utterly heartbroken.

"Me, John Smith," he felt the need to clarify. "I love you, Rose Tyler."

Rose shook her head slightly as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her shoulders trembled. "In another life, I would've loved you, too," she whispered, voice choked. A moment later she added firmly, "John."

It would have to be enough. After all, he wasn't even real – at least not in her eyes. He kissed her again, quickly this time, feeling like he'd better enjoy what he had as long as he still had it. One way or another, though it pained him to admit it, he could see anything between them was doomed to be short-lived.

And so, guess what they did.

They ran.

:-:

**I don't know if it was worth waiting for, like, two years, but good? Bad? I'd love to hear what you think! Won't you please review?**


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